2013: A Year For Heroes
by Eileen
Summary: What will the New Year bring for our favorite heroes? Surprises, romance, and a lot more. This will be a year none of them will ever forget. Some chapters contain a series of short vignettes, some are longer, with only one or two stories. Will be updated monthly, all throughout the year.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

December 21/22, 2012

They were having such a good time that Tony almost forgot to check his watch. When he did, he saw that it was 11:59. He waited two minutes, and then called for everyone's attention.

"I would just like to point out," he said, "that the time is now twelve-oh-one, which means that it is now December twenty-second. Which means," he said, while pouring himself another drink, "the Mayans were full of shit."

"Well, we knew that," said Clint, reaching for another beer.

Tony raised his own drink. "To the world not ending!"

"To the world not ending!" the others echoed, and drank.

If Bruce had been there, he could have told them that the Mayan prophecy had been mistranslated; the date in question was not the end, but a new beginning. And in the coming year, a lot of things would change, in ways they couldn't even imagine.


	2. January

1. Just Chillin'

He wasn't supposed to be up here. But when had Loki ever done as he was told?

He sat on the edge of the roof, looking out over the silent city. It was five in the morning, and from up here, everything was peaceful. For the moment.

Somewhere, way down there, a crew was cleaning up all the confetti and debris from last night's New Year celebrations. What must it be like to be part of that milling throng, crushing together like cattle, sharing in the biggest celebration of the year? Next year, they must attend in person. Even if it meant being stuck for eight hours behind a mailbox, and not getting his face on television (which, given the events of the past summer, would probably be a good idea), he wanted to go.

"Mental note: plan to personally attend next year's festivities."

"Oh, I don't know, it's more fun to watch it on TV. Even without Dick Clark."

The voice made him jump. "I should have known you would be an early riser as well, Stark."

"Haven't been to bed yet, actually." He sat down on the edge of the roof beside Loki. "You know, you're not supposed to be up here."

"Are you going to turn me in?"

"Well . . . no."

"Why not?"

"Too much trouble. Don't want to wake anyone up this early. Besides, you've been behaving yourself lately."

"You say that as if you expect it to change."

"Looking forward to it, actually. I don't mind if you make things interesting. But you kill anyone else, and your ass is in a cell before you can blink."

"You'd have to catch me first." Loki disappeared and then reappeared on the other side of the roof. "I'm better at this than you."

"Don't be so sure."

"Thank you for letting me stay here."

"After you saved us all by knocking out all the blue guys? We owe you, whether we like it or not. Some of us do, some of us don't. But as long as you keep doing the right thing, you have a place here. Good thing, too, because you'd never find a decent apartment in this city for two hundred a month. You can't find a crap hole for less than five hundred."

"Perhaps a raise in my allowance is in order?"

"Hey, he wanted to start you off at a hundred a month. I said Nicky, baby-he lets me call him Nicky-twenty-five bucks a week won't buy the man toilet paper! At least give him a decent living wage! And he said, he's got free room and board, free meals, access to your system-limited access-what does he need money for? And I said, a man has needs. Books, entertainment, maybe a few things to spruce up the place. Plus, he might want to take a certain graduate student out on the town before she goes back to New Mexico. Finally he said, two hundred, no more."

"You spoke up for me?" Loki cocked his head to the side in a gesture of puzzlement.

"I didn't want to. I mean, you did wreck my place, throw me out a window, and try to take over the world. But you said you were sorry. It doesn't **completely **excuse what you did, but it's a start. The rest, you can work off."

"Work with you?"

"With all of us. You're part of the team now, Lokester. Officially."

"I do wish you would stop using those ridiculous nicknames."

"It's better than Bambi, isn't it?" Stark's eyes twinkled. "I give everyone ridiculous nicknames. It's what I do to people I like."

Loki raised his eyebrows at this, but said nothing.

A sudden gust of wind came up and nearly blew both of them off the roof. Tony shivered and pulled his jacket tightly around him. "It's freezing out here! How are you in just a T-shirt? Wait, isn't that one of mine?"

"I borrowed it. Do you want it back?" The god started to pull it up over his head.

"No! Not now, anyway. Then there won't be anything between you and the elements. Aren't you cold?"

The look that Loki gave him was one he usually reserved for one of Thor's more dim-witted comments. "I'm a Frost Giant. I don't feel it as much as you do."

"Yeah? You must have been dying in the summer, in all that leather."

"It was a bit uncomfortable, yes."

"Supposed to be even warmer this year. You might want to stay in your room with the AC going, if that happens."

"AC?"

"Air conditioning. We don't need it right now, but when the time comes, I'll show you how to customize the system in your own rooms. There are independent controls in each apartment, and they can be set a few degrees higher or lower than the main building temperature." He shivered again. "Speaking of temperatures, it feels like it's gotten even colder out here. I'm going in. You coming?"

"Can I sit for a while longer?"

"In this weather? Your brain must be frozen. Get inside and warm up. If you stay out here and catch something, your brother will kill me." He held the door. "Come on."

This time he felt the rush of magic as empty air became . . . less empty. "Shut that door," Loki said from behind him. "It's cold outside."

2. Missing You

The place felt a little bigger now . . . and a lot lonelier.

Tony and Bruce had just left to bring Nathan back to his school. Loki was going to miss the youngster; they had really bonded during the two weeks that Nathan had been here. And he had really been disappointed to learn that he wouldn't see the boy again until April.

"What about February vacation?" Stark had asked.

"I'll be in Africa in February." Dr. Banner had already told them about his upcoming work with Doctors Without Borders, attempting to contain an epidemic in a province of Wakanda. "I think it's better if he stays at school then. And of course, we'll have him all summer."

Summer? That was months away! How was he supposed to hold on until then? Who would he watch Spongebob with? Or—what was the other one, the show with the two silly girls? He couldn't remember the title.

"Summer," Darcy said pensively. "I'll be in Norway in the summer."

Now that was interesting. "What is in Norway?"

"Research. Maybe trying to find the other wormhole, the one that opened up thousands of years ago, when you guys first came to Earth. Maybe it's still there, and no one knows it. Maybe there's some kind of evidence. Anyway, we'll be there for six weeks, all of June and most of July."

"I wish I could come with you," he said.

"You can't? Passport revoked or something?"

"Passport?" He wasn't familiar with the term.

"You don't even have one, do you?"

"This is some kind of travel document?"

"Yeah. Okay, so you can't leave the US. Maybe you could fly out to New Mexico in the spring. Maybe early in April, before Nate gets out of school."

"I am . . ." He felt embarrassed to even mention it. "I am forbidden to fly."

"I meant on a plane."

"I know. I am on what you call the No-Fly list."

"For real?" She looked dismayed. "Can't you pull strings with someone and have them fly you out?"

"Not without specific SHIELD approval."

"Boy, they've really got your ass in a sling, huh?"

He actually started to turn to get a look at his behind before he noticed the expression on her face. "That was a metaphor?"

"You'll get the hang of them soon. Well, there's still the phone. They don't monitor your calls, do they?"

"I believe they do. But I think you are on the approved list. If not, I will have words with someone." Not being able to see her for seven months was bad. Not being able to talk to her would have been too much to bear.

"I'll teach you how to use Skype," Banner offered. "It's easy, once you know how. You have a computer in your room, don't you?"

"I think so." He hadn't yet used the complicated device, but if someone were to explain it to him, he could pick it up easily enough.

"Okay. We'll go over it later this week. Nathan!" he called. "Come say goodbye! We've got to get you back before dark!" And dark came early this time of year.

The boy hadn't wanted to go, either. Loki could tell by the way he shuffled his feet as he walked across the carpet.

"Where's your trunk? Go get your trunk."

"It's in the car already. Uncle Steve brought it down for me."

"Oh. I hope you said thank you."

"Of course I did."

"Okay, then. Let's go."

The boy went around, saying goodbye to each of them individually. When he got to Loki, there were no words. They embraced each other, and being enveloped in that enormous bear hug made Loki feel warm all over—in a good way. So this was what love was like. He'd missed that feeling.

"Remember," he said, "you are a warrior, and a mighty one at that. But a true warrior uses his brain as well as his brawn."

"Everyone knows that," said Thor, who looked like he wasn't sure if he'd just been insulted. Loki hadn't meant the words as an insult, but as a compliment to the boy's intelligence.

"Okay, we have to leave now!" Tony was shifting from foot to foot impatiently, like a child that needed to relieve himself. "We'll see you in April, kiddo. Now let's go."

"Don't forget Garcia," Natasha said, tossing Nathan the bear. "Now you're ready."

The boy clutched the blonde-wigged, bespectacled bear to himself like a magical totem. "Bye," he whispered, and walked slowly to the elevators. He never looked back.

That had been less than three hours ago, and Loki felt his absence already, like a hole in his heart.

He sat on the sofa, in the spot he'd settled himself when first he'd arrived in the tower two weeks ago, and turned on Nickelodeon, looking for Spongebob or the other show—iCarly, it was called, he remembered—but neither was on at the moment. There was something currently playing called Big Time Rush, about four boys who were apparently in some kind of musical group. They ran around having wild misadventures for thirty minutes while Loki stared at the screen, not really paying attention.

He felt the cushions shift heavily, and knew who sat beside him.

"I miss him already, brother."

"Aye, I too miss the child. He has a way of filling the entire room with his presence—and I speak not of his physical presence, but his spirit. There is a lot of love in his heart."

"Indeed, if he could love even one such as me." Nathan had been the first one, besides Thor, to approach Loki as a friend rather than an enemy.

"And why do you think yourself so unworthy of love?" Thor asked him.

Loki turned to face him. "Do you know what I did, after I was sent to this realm but before I worked up the courage to find you and beg you to let me stay?"

Thor shook his head.

"You never asked, did you?"

"It matters not. You are here now."

"Yes, I am here, now. But before, I was alone, living on the street, depending on the kindness of strangers just to survive. Of which, by the way, there was little. Most who saw me passed by as if they didn't even notice me. Some went so far as to call me names and shout clever things like 'Get a job!' I tried, believe me, but I had no skills, no training, and no identity. How was I supposed to find work without so much as a scrap of paper proving my existence?"

"I . . . had not thought of that."

"I only came here as a last resort, when all other possibilities had been exhausted. I expected to be turned away. What I did not expect . . . was the boy."

"I see. He saw a fellow outcast in you, and determined to make you feel welcome. And because he accepted you, the others eventually did as well."

"I owe him my very life. I could never tell him that, but it's the truth."

Thor nodded at this. Then he noticed what was on the screen before them. "What is the point of this . . . entertainment?"

"I have no idea. Watch whatever you want. I'm going to my room."

"Alone?"

"You have a better idea?"

"We could go to the . . . what did Lady Darcy call it? The Larp shop? . . . and buy you some more spell books."

"They don't work, you know."

"You're clever. You can make them work."

Well, it was worth a look. And it beat sitting here feeling sorry for himself. "I'll get my coat."

3. The Window

Not again.

Every time Natasha walked by this window, it was wide open, letting in the frigid air. And every time, she shut it again. This was getting monotonous.

She slammed the window shut and yelled over her shoulder, "Hey! Who keeps opening this window? It's freezing in here!"

No one would own up to it, of course. Or maybe they just weren't around at the moment. She seemed to remember something about Tony and Steve going out for shawarma a little while ago. Hopefully they'd bring back enough for everyone.

Bruce was in his lab, as usual. And Clint was in Seattle on a surveillance mission. Who did that leave?

A certain Frost Giant who thought the universe revolved around him, that's who.

She stormed off toward Loki's rooms before thinking better of it and deciding to wait until a better time. Or until he opened the damn window again. Whichever came first.

When she passed the thermostat, she glanced at it and then did a double-take. "Who put this on eighty degrees? I like it warm, but not that warm!"

She turned it down, and went to the training room to work off her frustration. At least that place was kept at a fairly constant temperature. Besides, she wanted to try out the new obstacle course that Tony had set up for the team.

Half an hour later, she came back upstairs, and not only was the thermostat back up again, but the window was open again as well!

"Who is doing this?" she demanded. "Oh, I'll find out! Believe me, I'll find out, and I'll make you pay!"

None of them came forward. She hadn't expected them to, after the threat, but she would have hoped that someone would own up to at least the window.

The next time she passed the thermostat, it was set on 65. Then, it went up to 78. Then the window was open. The fact that these things happened almost in sequence gave her pause. "Something's up," she said to herself. She decided to shut the window, turn the thermostat back to 72, and then wait in hiding, to see what happened next.

She could have just asked JARVIS what was going on. But that would have been too easy. So would reviewing the security footage for the past hour. She needed to sharpen her skills anyway. She crouched in the closet and waited.

Of course, now that she was watching for them, they wouldn't do it. (It had to be at least two separate people, she decided. One turning the thermostat up and down, one opening the window. Unless Loki was just being a complete pain in the ass, which she wouldn't put past him.) She sat still for ten minutes, waiting for someone to come along and **do** something, but there was not the slightest bit of activity.

Fine.

She stepped out of the closet, checked the window (closed) and the thermostat (at 72), and went to find out where everyone was.

"There she is!" Tony exclaimed, as she entered the upstairs common area. "Have some shawarma."

"Later." She spotted Loki across the room and marched up to him. When he noticed her presence, she snapped, "Leave that window closed! Every time I walk by, the window's open again! And you keep turning the thermostat up and down!"

"What are you accusing me of?" he asked.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "The window, in the hall. **Someone** keeps opening it, and I keep shutting it again, but five minutes later, it's open again!"

"And you thought I did it?"

"Who else would open a window in the middle of winter?"

"Oh, sure, blame the Frost Giant."

"Um . . ." Steve raised a hand. "I actually opened the window. It was hot."

"Yes, because **someone **keeps turning the thermostat up and down!"

"Well, it wasn't me. I don't know how to work that thing. That's why I opened the window."

"That was me, actually," Bruce admitted. "It was set on 64, so I turned it up a bit. I thought."

"Well, who put it that low?" she asked.

Loki sighed. "All right, **that **was me. But I didn't touch the window!"

"All right, that's enough!" Tony said. "From now on, that thermostat stays at 68 degrees, and the window stays closed. If you're cold, put on a sweater. If you're hot, get a fan. But no more screwing around with the heat, okay? That goes for all of you. We've got more important things to worry about."

Just then a dripping wet Thor, towel wrapped around his waist, squelched into the room. "There is no hot water!" he announced.

Everyone turned and looked at Loki.

"What?"

4. Resolution Solution

"Did you make any resolutions?" Tony asked Bruce one day, when they were setting up a complicated experiment.

"I never do," he admitted. "They're designed to fail, anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's absolute thinking. 'I will do this. I will not do that.' You can't turn behavior on and off like a light switch. It has to be done in stages."

"What do you mean?"

"What I have is a series of small goals, broken down into months, weeks, and days. For example, my goal for today is not to punch you in the face."

"Admirable goal. So you have a lot of little resolutions instead of a few big ones."

"Yes, but I don't call them resolutions. They're items on my to-do list. That way, if I don't complete a goal today, I can move it to tomorrow's list."

"Huh. I like that idea. Mind if I steal it?"

"Oh, I didn't invent it. I read it in some magazine article. If I find it again, I'll show it to you."

A few days later, when Bruce handed him a copy of Women's Workout magazine, Tony had to fight the urge to laugh. "This is the source of your wisdom?"

"It's amazing, the things you pick up when you're bored."

"Do you get fashion advice from this, too? Tips on hair and makeup?"

"There's not as much fluff in this as there is in most women's magazines. Some of their workouts are really tough."

"You've done their workouts?"

"Sure." He flipped pages until he came to the relevant section. "I've been doing this one for a few weeks, and I can see a difference already. They really know their stuff."

"Hmm," Tony said, eyeing his friend's physique. "I thought you looked a little more ripped than usual."

"Next month's issue is the Bikini Body Countdown. Shall we make a contest of it, and see who ends up with the better bikini body?"

Tony pretended to flip his hair back. "Like, fer shure! I have totally got to get into my new bikini, so that Chad will go out with me!"

"Seriously."

"You're making me be serious? Why?"

"Do you want to do this, or not?"

"Let me see if I can fit it into my schedule . . . wait, aren't you going to be away next month?"

"Oh, yeah, right. I forgot about that. Well, we can do it when I get back."

"Fine. But we both have to start at the same time. When the magazine comes, I will keep it locked in my safe until the moment you come back. At which time, we begin the program. Deal?"

"Sounds good to me."

Pepper was bringing in the mail a few weeks later when she noticed a women's fitness magazine on the top of the pile. Oddly enough, it had Bruce's name on it.

Must be a mistake, she thought, and tossed it in the trash.

5. I'm Not Procrastinating

"What are you doing?" Pepper, who was already dressed in her party dress, makeup, jewelry, and one black stiletto heel, stood and glared at Tony, who was in jeans and an AC/DC shirt, playing games on the computer.

"Playing Zombie Attack. I'm almost done with this level."

"We have to be at the hotel in an hour! You're not even dressed yet!"

"I will. Let me just finish this."

"No," she said firmly. "You save that and log off now. You have to go get ready!"

"I'll be ready in time. Aw, dammit, you made me get eaten! Now I have to start this level over!"

"You can play that tomorrow! Or after we come home, if it's not too late. Just not now!"

"Why not?" He had started up the game again. Cartoonish zombies shambled across the screen.

"Because! You have to get in the shower, and then get dressed, and get ready! You don't have time to waste playing games!"

"I can be ready in under an hour. I can be ready in twenty minutes. I'll be there, Pep, okay? Go comb your hair or something."

"I combed my hair ten minutes ago. I told you the shower was free, and you said you'd be right there! Now get off that thing and get moving!"

"I will. Stop bugging me."

"If I left you to your own devices, you'd be here till midnight! All right, I'm coming back in five minutes."

"Ten."

"Five. And if you're not logged out, I'm pulling the plug."

"Battery backup."

"I'll remove the battery."

"Not without a screwdriver, you won't."

"Then I'll get a screwdriver. I'll do what it takes to get you to the function on time, and properly dressed."

"When have I ever shown up anywhere improperly dressed?"

"Cannes."

He tore his attention from the game for a moment and looked at her. "That was not my fault! Corey Feldman stole my clothes!"

"I thought it was Matthew Broderick."

"Maybe it was. Somebody who was really famous in the Eighties. Anyway, that's the only reason I showed up wearing a dress."

"That, and you were drunk at the time."

"That, too. Can I finish this now?"

She sighed. "Five minutes. That's it. Or I come back with my screwdriver."

"I'll be off by then."

"Tony, it's been five minutes. You said you'd be off by now."

"Yeah, well, I'm on a roll here. Can't stop now."

"You'd better stop now! You have forty-five minutes before the limo shows up. Considering how much they charge for it, you don't want to keep them waiting. Now move it!"

"Gimme five more minutes. Almost got this one."

"That's what you said five minutes ago! You promised you'd be off by now! Wrap it up and let's go!"

"I will. I promise you, if I'm not off in five minutes, you can come in with your screwdriver and disassemble the whole machine."

Her eyes narrowed. "Then you'll just spend the time putting it back together. You're due for an update, aren't you?"

"Not that it matters, but yeah."

"It'll have to wait."

"Just one more level! I promise, right after this, I'm off."

"Tony, I'm disappointed in you."

"Almost got it."

"You've been saying that for ten minutes! All right, that's it!" She hit the Power button, and the game died in mid-zombie lunge.

"Hey! You could have let me save first!" He watched the screen go dark with dismay. "You're mean."

"Because I want you to be somewhere on time? All right, fine, I'm mean. Does my being mean get you moving in the direction of the bathroom any faster?"

"How many times have I told you? I know exactly how long it takes me to be ready to go somewhere. I can do it in ten minutes."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"Okay, Miss Smarty Pants. Time me."

"I will."

"If I'm not showered, dried, dressed, groomed, and ready to go in twelve point eight minutes—"

"You have it down to the decimal point?"

"Don't interrupt. If I'm not ready by then, I will personally escort you to your next spa appointment, and then to dinner afterwards."

"And if you're ready on time? Which you couldn't possibly be, in that length of time."

He shrugged. "All I want's an apology."

"Fair enough." She engaged the stopwatch app on her phone. "Go!"

"I'm gone." He got up from his chair and walked briskly—he refused to run—in the direction of his main bathroom.

He couldn't pull it off, Pepper told herself. Twelve point eight minutes from now, he'd still be in the shower. Well, the least she could do was go and lay out his suit for him, so it would be ready when he—

It was already laid out. Shoes, underwear, and all.

"No way," she said out loud. "He had this planned from the beginning? I'll kill him!"

Still, it was . . . six minutes and thirty-seven seconds, and the shower was still running. There was no way he was going to be ready on time, even with a head start.

She shook her head and went out to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and wait for him. "A spa day **and** dinner? Mr. Stark, you are too generous!" she said to empty air.

The water shut off at seven minutes and twenty seconds. Still almost five minutes for him to dry off, dress, comb his hair, straighten his tie, tie his shoes, and come out to meet her. He'd never make it.

"I'm ready."

Pepper looked at her stopwatch and clicked "Stop" at eleven minutes and fifty-six seconds. "How . . .?"

"I told you, I've got it down to a science."

"Hold on a moment there." She walked around him, examining him from all angles. Shirt buttoned . . . tie tied correctly . . . not a hair out of place . . . not a wrinkle or a spot of lint anywhere. Finally she stepped back and admitted defeat. "How did you do it? I have to know!"

"I've had years of practice dressing myself. Plus I picked out the outfit ahead of time, to simplify the process. I'm ready for my apology now."

Sigh. "All right. I'm sorry I doubted your greatness. And your amazing ability to dress yourself."

"I'm detecting a hint of insincerity there, Pep."

"The limo will be here any moment. Are we ready to go or not?"

"As soon as you admit I was right and you were wrong."

"Okay. You were right, and I was wrong. I was looking forward to that spa day, too."

"Another time. Let's not keep the limo waiting." He pushed the button for the elevator, and the doors opened smoothly.

They were the second couple to arrive at the party. Turned out they were supposed to show up at seven-thirty, not seven. Tony gave Pepper a look and told her, "If you need me, I'll be in the coat room, playing Zombie Attack on my phone."

6. Socks

Watching the U. S. Figure Skating Championships wasn't their usual way to spend an evening, but it had been exciting. Loki had known little of this sport of figure skating, but had learned much in the few hours he had spent with the others, watching as the competitors went through their routines seemingly effortlessly.

"I could do that," he said.

Tony scoffed. "The one time you've been skating in your life, you could barely stay up."

"At first, maybe. But I picked it up."

"These people practice for ten or twelve hours a day, you know. I can't see you putting in that kind of effort."

"Are you saying I have no tolerance for hard work?"

"Not that I've seen."

It might have gotten ugly had Steve not stepped in and said, "Guys, let's just watch this and leave the hard work to the professionals."

"They're amateurs, actually," said Natasha. "Although a lot of National and World Champions have gone on to professional careers."

"Am I the only one," Bruce asked, "who had a crush on Dorothy Hamill?"

The others all looked at him.

"Who?" Steve asked.

"Never mind."

The skating was breathtaking to watch. Not a rough and tumble sport, this; it was more like an art form, delicate and graceful. When the skaters leaped into the air, it was like watching a bird take flight. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

Loki found he liked the individual competitions more than the pairs skating, for reasons he couldn't easily articulate. Mostly he just sat spellbound by the artistry on display. Such a pity that the program was so often interrupted by noisy, distracting advertisements.

He blinked, and all of a sudden, there was a news program on. "What happened to the skating?"

Tony chuckled. "It's over, genius. Go to bed."

"But—"

"There'll be more tomorrow night," Natasha pointed out.

"I have to wait till tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's the final round. You won't want to miss that."

"Right." He nodded. He wished Thor was there, but his brother was off on "special assignment," whatever that meant.

On the way back to his suite of rooms, Loki passed the service kitchen, which they hardly ever used.

The extraordinarily large kitchen.

With an extraordinarily smooth-looking tile floor.

_Just glide along. Like sliding in your socks on the kitchen floor-you ever do that?_

He could see what Darcy had meant now. Okay, he thought, I'll try anything once.

He removed his shoes and lined them up carefully against the wall, and then stepped out onto the smooth expanse of tile. It was almost as big as a skating rink, and as he slid back and forth, trying to get the feel of this, he could hear a commentator's voice in his head.

"Our next competitor, now warming up on the ice, is Loki Laufeyson, who trains in New York. This is his first major competition, and he is third after the short program. Getting ready now to start his program, to the music of Taylor Swift. The song is 'Fearless.'"

He began with simple back-and-forth moves before attempting a jump. The first one didn't go very high, but he managed to land properly.

"Very nice double, there. Very clean landing. Triple coming up."

The next jump was a little higher, and went a little further around. _This is easy_, he thought, as he made another circuit of the kitchen and prepared for a third jump.

"One more triple here, and then some footwork coming-oh!"

Coming down, he overbalanced and nearly fell into the edge of the counter, but was able to right himself before he got hurt.

"That's a mandatory deduction there, but a nice recovery. If the rest of the program stays clean, he could still win a medal."

Meanwhile, as he spun around, Loki was completely unaware that he had an audience.

"What is he doing?" Tony asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I think," said Bruce, "he's trying to copy the skating moves he saw on TV."

"Yeah, I used to do that. When I was five."

"He's not bad, actually. If I tried that, I'd fall on my head."

"Friends! I have returned! I-what is going on?" Thor stared at the spectacle of his adopted brother, sliding around on a tile floor in his socks.

"Shush! Don't interrupt his finishing move!" Tony glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room. "JARVIS, you're recording this, right?"

"Of course, sir."

"Save a copy of it in my file marked 'Blackmail.'"

"That's just mean," said Bruce.

"Only if he finds out."

But Loki was too caught up in his imaginary routine to care. He dropped into one of the sitting spins he had seen the skaters on television perform, balancing on one leg while twirling around faster and faster, lifting his arms and rising up. He slowly spun to a stop.

"Beautiful!" said the commentator in his head. "A spectacular end to a nearly perfect program! And we'll see in a moment just how much that one little bobble will cost him."

It was then that Loki raised his head and saw that he wasn't alone. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Long enough," said Tony. "Want to wait for your scores?"

"I have had enough of you mocking me," Loki grumbled, and stalked off to his rooms.

"What?" Tony asked, at Thor's disapproving look. "I thought he was good, actually! If they had a sliding on the kitchen floor in socks Olympics, he would have just won a gold medal!"

"So give him one."

"Oh, yeah, like I have gold medals coming out of my ears."

"Give him something! He thinks you do not care about him."

"All right, all right. I'll find something."

A short while later, he tapped on the younger god's door. "Hey, Dick Button, come out here for a sec."

"What do you want?" He spoke through the door, not daring to open it yet.

"You don't want to be late for the medal ceremony, do you?"

Now the door opened a crack. "Medal ceremony? What are you talking about?"

"Buddy, you won the gold. Come upstairs, and I'll give it to you. Since I don't know the anthem of whatever country you come from, what piece of music do you want played?"

"I-I don't care." Loki wasn't sure if this was some sort of joke at his expense, or if the billionaire was sincere.

"We'll just go with 'Star-Spangled Banner' for now, then. Come on."

And in front of the entire household, Loki Laufeyson of New York accepted the first-ever gold medal in the Sliding on the Kitchen Floor in Socks Olympics.


	3. February, pt 1

_(A/N: Hi, folks! I couldn't wait a whole month to post this, so you're getting an early update! Hope you like it, even though it's long! There will be a Part 2, coming soon!)_

1. Snowstorm

"This is the big one, ladies and gentlemen," the TV weather forecaster was saying. "This storm is huge, and it's coming in fast. Better batten down those hatches, cause nobody's going anywhere for a few days."

"He's bluffing," Tony scoffed. "That storm will blow out to sea, and we'll get nothing. Maybe a couple of inches. He makes it sound like Snowmageddon."

A moment later, "Snowmageddon" flashed on the screen.

"Wow, I'm psychic."

The elevator door opened behind them, and Pepper and Steve came in, loaded down with shopping bags.

"We're set on groceries for a few days," she said, putting the bags down on the counter. "It was a zoo in there! One flake of snow in the forecast, and everyone thinks we'll be buried for weeks!"

"That's the way it's beginning to look," said Clint. "I guess my trip to Minneapolis is off."

"Considering that they've already closed the airport," said Natasha, who was secretly pleased by the news, "I'd say so. Was it a removal mission?"

"Retrieval."

"They can get someone local to do the retrieving."

"That's not code for killing someone, is it?" Steve asked, setting down the bags he carried. They clunked heavily.

"Did you buy every can of soup in the aisle?" asked Tony.

"What was left. Also some bottled water, matches, and all the Pop Tarts they had left."

"Speaking of which, where are Snow Miser and Thunder Dome?"

"Mr. Laufeyson and Mr. Odinson are currently in the training area," said JARVIS, bless his little cybernetic heart.

"I'll go and get them," Steve said, and went back to the elevator.

"It's nothing!" Tony insisted. "We're gonna get nothing, just you wait and see. Then everyone can all have a good laugh about it. I'm going to make some phone calls before they shut that down unnecessarily as well. At least we don't have to worry about losing our power."

"No," said Pepper, "but our neighbors aren't so lucky. Don't go rubbing it in their faces."

"When do I ever do that?"

"You're cancelling your meetings tomorrow, right?"

He stopped and looked back at her. "Pepper, it's nothing! We'll get a dusting, if that! Stop being an alarmist! I'll cancel what I need to cancel **if** I need to cancel it! Now leave me alone! I'm working!"

"Right." She sighed and began to put the groceries away by herself.

* * *

"_Figures it snows and I'm not there," _Bruce Banner said, over the staticky connection. It was the first time in days that Tony had actually managed to get hold of him. Parts of Wakanda, he was told, were actually quite civilized, and had all the modern conveniences, but unfortunately the region where Bruce was working did not. This audio-only connection was the best he could do.

"You talk to the kid yet?"

"_Haven't had a chance. If he calls, tell him I'm fine, and I should be home around the twenty-third. I might even pick him up something from the airport . . . op."_

"Say that again? I lost the last part."

" _. . . ony? Can y . . . ear me?"_

"Beeb? You still there?"

There was only the hiss of static. The connection had been lost. Damn.

He hung up, and then pressed the On button again. The hum of a dial tone reassured his ears that the problem was not on his end. His phone was working fine. He made the rest of his calls, listening for the beep of an incoming call, but it never came.

He wondered whether or not to call Nathan's school, but decided to wait until he heard something, one way or the other. No point in getting the boy all worked up until he was sure something was wrong. And he didn't know that anything was. Hadn't Bruce himself warned him that service might be spotty, or even nonexistent? Besides, if it was a life-or-death situation, one of the SHIELD agents stationed near the camp would send an SOS.

Maybe he should call Fury and have him tell his guys to keep an extra-close eye on the good doctor for a few days, just in case.

Or was he making a big deal over nothing?

He was fine. Bruce was just fine. One dropped call meant nothing; people lost signal all the time, especially on international calls.

Still, he hadn't called back.

Tony couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong, or about to go wrong. He didn't have any evidence yet, other than his own suspicions, and that surely wasn't enough to justify calling someone who would rip his head off, verbally, for bothering him with this when there was real work to do. Fury would probably be already upset about having to reassign Barton's mission; having him yank one of his armed guards off duty (_oh, yeah, there's a war out there_) for twenty-four-hour Hulk watch, when it wasn't even necessary.

Or was it?

He was so distracted by his dilemma that he didn't even notice when it began to snow.

* * *

Thor's nose was pressed against the window, watching the white, puffy flakes coming down. "Is it not wonderful? Friend Tony, come and see!"

"What?" Then he glanced outside and saw the snow falling. "When did this start?"

"About ten minutes ago," said Pepper. "And it doesn't look like it's stopping any time soon."

"Oh, please! So we get a few inches. That's not gonna shut down the whole city!"

"They say it'll continue on through the night and into tomorrow, just like this."

"Sure, **they** say. Whoever **they** are."

She gave him a look. "**They **are professional meteorologists with state of the art radar and tracking systems! I think **they **know what **they're **talking about."

"All I'm saying is, the last couple times they predicted a big Nor'easter, we got nothing. Why should this be any different?"

"Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, this time they got it right?"

He had nothing to say to that. He stalked into the living room and slumped down onto the shorter of the two sofas, where Steve was already sitting. Natasha and Clint were on the longer sofa, his head on her shoulder.

Who was missing?

There was a banner underneath the program they were watching, displaying a running list of school cancellations. Not that Tony cared; he didn't have kids, unless you counted Nathan, but since he didn't go to regular school, he wouldn't be affected by the closings.

It wasn't until the next commercial break that Tony realized who wasn't there. "Hey, Goldilocks, where's your brother?"

Thor reluctantly turned away from the window. "I . . . do not know."

"Oh, shit, he's not on the roof again, is he? He'll freeze, Frost Giant or no. Come on!"

Loki was indeed on the roof, standing with his arms outstretched and his face—his blue, patterned face—turned up to the sky. Snow fell on him, but it didn't stick.

"Hey! Jack Frost! Get your butt in here!"

"Not yet."

"Are you kidding me? You can't be out here in the middle of a blizzard! Thor, back me up here."

The thunder god nodded and crossed the space between himself and his brother in a few strides. The snow was not yet accumulating up here, but if it continued the way everyone said it would, they would be buried by morning. "Come inside, brother. We will make cocoa and sit by the fire and watch the movies of Dis-nee. It is not safe to be out here until the snow stops falling."

"Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it glorious? Look at it, all around us. Is this not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?"

"You have seen snow before."

"But not from this height. Looking down on it instead of up is incredible! Come to the edge here."

"Uh, I wouldn't do that—" Tony warned them, but the Asgardians didn't listen. They moved to the very edge of the roof, leaning over in a way that made his stomach flop, and he closed his eyes for a second.

"It is beautiful," Thor admitted. "Now can we come inside? I will let you wear my Snuggie."

"The one that looks like wizard robes?"

"**If **you come in **now.**"

Loki seemed to be considering it. "Very well," he admitted at last, and turned to go back inside. He slipped on a wet patch of roof and fell forward. For one heart-stopping moment, Tony was sure that he'd go over the edge, but Thor caught him and yanked him back.

"That," he said, "is why you need to come in now."

"All right." The blue coloration faded from his skin, along with the strange line patterns that had seemed etched into his skin. Thor had explained once that it was his natural Jotun form, but it was still weird to actually see it.

They came in, and spent the rest of the evening wrapped up warm in front of the fire, watching _Finding Nemo_. And the snow continued to fall.

In the morning, when the windows were completely covered over from the accumulation of snow on the ledges, Pepper turned to Tony and gave him a look. He shrugged and tried to look apologetic.

"Okay, so you were right. We're not going anywhere today. Anyone have a problem with that?"

He looked around. Clint and Natasha were MIA (had been since last night, as a matter of fact. He knew they were still in the building, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know where they were or what they were doing), but Steve was sitting at the counter, eating microwave pancakes. The two gods were still sleeping on the sofa, leaning against each other in the most adorable way, like puppies in a basket. And Pepper was sitting in **his **chair, deliberately, he was sure, but he wasn't about to make a fuss about it. There were other chairs.

The peaceful mood was broken a few minutes later by an enormous sneeze, coming from the direction of the sofa. _Told him he shouldn't have been out there so long in that weather, _Tony thought, but when he looked, he saw that it was Thor who was sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"Here," he said, bringing over a box of Kleenex. The thunder god nodded his thanks and balanced the box on his lap.

"Maybe you should have worn the Snuggie," said Loki.

Thor blew his nose loudly and then said, "I am fine, brother. A minor inconvenience, nothing more."

"I didn't think you could **get** sick," Tony mused.

"Nor did I, but it is nothing to worry about. I will be fine."

"Good thing no one's going anywhere today. You can stay in and wrap up nice and warm and watch movies all day long."

"That **does **sound like fun. Brother, you've fussed over me every time I've been ill. Let me return the favor. Are you ready for breakfast yet? I can bring you breakfast in bed."

"That would require me actually being in bed."

"Well, you're not staying on the couch all day. I'll bring up that movie you wanted to see, the one about the horse."

"But I don't want to move."

"You'd better. I cannot carry you."

"All right." With what seemed like a great effort, Thor heaved his body up off the sofa, into a vaguely upright position.

"And here," Loki said, shrugging out of the garment wrapped around him. "You take the Snuggie. You need it more than I do."

"Fine." He put it on so that the opening was in the front.

"Don't forget your tissues!" He picked the box up off the floor and tossed it to Thor, who caught it in one hand.

"Okay," said Tony. "I've got to go . . . cancel some meetings. You guys let me know if you need anything, okay?" He went into his office and started another round of phone calls. Just to be safe (because, believe it or not, the snow was still falling), he rescheduled everything for three days hence. Then he had to reschedule all the appointments that had been previously scheduled for that day, so that he wouldn't be double-booked, and by the time he was through with all that, it was nearly lunch time.

_What time is it in Wakanda?_

He dialed the contact number he had for Bruce, but instead of a ringing, there was . . . some sort of high-pitched beeping, and then a click. What the heck? He tried again; same thing.

_I didn't want to do this. But I'm really scared now. _He dialed another number, not really expecting it to be answered. Just as he was preparing what he planned to leave as a voicemail message, he heard, _"Fury."_

"Yeah, hi, it's me."

"_What do you want, Stark? I'm a little busy right now."_

"You've got guys staking out that doctor camp Bruce is at, right? Just in case of accidental Hulk-age?"

"_What about it?"_

"I was talking to him yesterday, and the signal cut out in the middle of the conversation. And then when I tried to call him back, I couldn't get through. Can you have one of your guys . . . check on him, for me?"

"_Let me get this straight." _Uh oh: His Furiousness did not sound happy. _"New York is buried in snow. The city is at a standstill. I've been on the phone with the Minneapolis branch for forty minutes, trying to find someone to take over Barton's assignment . . . and you want me to call halfway around the world to make sure your science buddy is okay?"_

"That's about the size of it."

"_That's what I thought."_

"Yeah, well, I understand you're busy, but . . . I've got a bad feeling about this."

"_Connections drop all the time. It means nothing."_

"It might mean something in this case. I'm not gonna let this go. Nicky," he said, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the desk, "if you don't send your guy to check on him, I'll call you every hour on the hour—and play Justin Bieber in your ear until you hang up. Then I'll call back."

"_Anyone ever tell you you're an annoying son of a bitch?"_

"All the time. So should I get my playlist loaded, or what?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, and Tony would have thought that the call had dropped had it not been for the other man's heavy breathing. In a moment, he was either going to slam down the receiver, or—

"_All right. I'll call you as soon as I hear from him."_

"Thanks, Nicky. I owe you one."

"_You owe me several, and don't you forget it." _And **then **he slammed the phone down.

Okay, then. Time to leave the office and find out what was happening in the rest of the tower. On his way to the kitchen, Tony noticed the lights flicker, but he knew that they wouldn't go out completely. However, the rest of the city was not so lucky; as he glanced out the window, he saw lights going off all around them. Wonderful.

He found Loki in the kitchen, staring at a can of soup.

"You do know it won't cook itself, right?"

"I am trying to read the directions! Why do they print them so small?"

"Want to borrow my reading glasses?"

Loki gave him a look.

"Look, it's easy. Dump it in a pan, add water, turn the heat on low, and stir. I could help you, if you want."

"You would do that? Why?"

He shrugged. "I'm bored. I need something to do." _To take my mind off . . . everything. _"Let me get the pan out for you. Will one can be enough, or should we make two?"

"He doesn't seem to have much of an appetite today. He didn't eat too much at breakfast. Only two bowls of cereal, a glass of juice, and two pieces of dry toast."

"That's not much, for him, but it's more than I had for breakfast. Okay, one can it is. If he doesn't want it all, you can share it with him." Tony got out one of the smaller saucepans and set it on the stove. "You know how to work the can opener, right?"

"I'm not an idiot." With that, Loki demonstrated his mastery of the appliance by dropping the lid into the can, and then slicing himself quite badly when he tried to retrieve it. "Ouch! It bit me!"

"Sharp edges are sharp, genius. Let me get you a bandage."

"Why are you doing this? Why do you wish to help me? I thought you didn't like me."

"Where did you get an idea like that?"

"You told me so."

"Months ago! Before you saved my life. People change, you know. Here." He ripped off a piece of paper towel and wrapped it around the wounded digit. "Hold that on there until I come back."

Halfway to the bathroom, Pepper came out of nowhere and thrust a phone into his hand. "It's the mayor. He wonders if you'd be interested in opening an emergency shelter in the lower floors of the building."

"What?"

"People have no lights, no heat, and we do. It's only fair. Talk to him."

He looked at her. "I don't have time to talk to him! I've still got meetings to reschedule. I'm waiting for Nick Fury to call me back and tell me if Bruce is still **alive**. I've got a sick God of Thunder in the bedroom, a bleeding God of Mischief in the kitchen, and I don't even **know **where Clint and Nat disappeared to! Tell him whatever, I don't care! Just let me get on with the million things I have to do right now!" He handed the phone back to her and stormed off.

They had no Band-Aids? What the freak? Not even the Hello Kitty ones he'd bought for a joke? He felt around at the back of the cabinet, and came up with zip. _Oh, you've got to be kidding me . . ._

He tried one of the other bathrooms. All he found were the teeny tiny ones that never fit anyone. He grabbed them anyway, in case that was all there was.

Then he tried the bathroom in Bruce's suite. Not like he was around to complain right now, right? And he struck gold. There was a full box of Band-Aids on the second shelf. He took one and set the box of small ones down, intending to come back for it later. Then he rushed to the kitchen, where he found Steve looking through the fridge.

"Where've you been?" he asked.

"I was working on something," he said. "Is there any mustard in here?"

"Should be. Oh." He remembered what he was here for, and handed Loki the bandage. "Just put that on it. Did you start the soup yet?"

"I was waiting for you."

"Sorry. I couldn't find them. I'll get it started, then." He dumped the can of soup into the pan, added some water, and turned on the burner. He didn't usually cook, but anybody could heat up a can of soup, right? It wasn't rocket science.

"Just stir that for a while," he said, "until it's hot enough. Then put into a bowl and serve. Nothing to it."

"Where are you going?" the god demanded.

"I can't find the mustard," Steve called out to him.

"Behind the pickles. I have some more phone calls to make. If anyone calls for me, I'm in my office. And someone go find out where Natasha and Clint disappeared to. Tell them to come up for air, for God's sake!"

It was just one thing after another, wasn't it? He saw Pepper coming for him again, and tried to dodge her, but she was not so easily dodged. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I still have to sort out the rescheduling mess."

"You have a press conference in an hour!"

"Press conference?"

"Well, a recorded statement, anyway. We'll set it up in the lobby, and it'll be on the four o'clock news."

"Statement about what?" What had been happening while he was busy on the phone?

"You're opening the bottom two floors of this building as an emergency shelter, tonight and possibly tomorrow."

"What? When was this decided?"

"When the mayor called. You said tell him whatever. So I told him yes."

"You told him—"

"Tony, it's the only thing to do without you looking like a selfish jerk. Think of the good publicity."

"Do I have to talk to any of these people?"

"Not if you don't want to. They'll understand if you're busy." But there was an edge in her voice; she was just as annoyed and tired of all this as he was.

"I'll see what I can do," he said. "Thanks, Pep. I don't know what I'd do without you. Really."

She smiled at that. "See you downstairs in an hour."

Fury still hadn't called. Tony checked his messages, both land line and cell, but there was nothing from the SHIELD director. He contemplated calling him back, decided he liked his head where it was, and got on with his other calls, listening for beeps. There were none.

All of a sudden he smelled smoke, just as the fire alarm went off. He ran to find out what was going on. Would they have to evacuate the building? What would this do to his press conference?

The smoke seemed to be coming from the kitchen. _Oh, no . . . _

"What did I do?" Loki asked. He held the melted handle of a scorched pan, completely black inside.

"You were supposed to turn it off when it was done! I thought you said you knew how to do this!"

"He kept calling me! By the way, we're out of tissues."

Tony looked at him. "There are extra boxes in the utility closet."

"There **were**, you mean."

"They're all gone?"

Loki nodded solemnly. "I am worried about my brother. Is he very ill, do you think?"

"I have no idea. I'll try to look in on him, though, in between my phone calls and my press conference. By the way, if you go downstairs and there's a bunch of people you don't recognize . . . don't worry about it. We're opening an emergency shelter for those who've lost their power."

"Can you ask them to bring tissues?"

"I'll see what I can do." Where was that music coming from? "Just grab a couple rolls of toilet paper from the bathroom, for now. Do you hear that?"

"It's coming from your pocket," Loki said, a look of bemusement on his face.

"Hunh." Tony reached into his pocket, and sure enough, it was his phone going off. "Thanks, Lokes. I gotta take this."

He turned the fan on to clear out the smoke. One good thing about the alarm going off: it had brought Nat and Clint out of the room where they'd been holed up all day, doing who knew what. "What's that?"

"It's okay. Minor kitchen disaster. You know how to make soup without burning it, don't you? Hi, can you hold on a second?" He covered the mouthpiece of his phone. "See if you can go give Loki a hand."

"Where are you going?" Natasha asked him.

"I've got phone calls to make. If anyone calls for me, I'm in my office. Yeah, I'm still here."

"_You'll be glad to know," _Nick Fury said, _"that our agent has tracked down Doctor Banner, and reports that he's doing fine. He's a little busy at the moment, which is why he didn't call you back, but no sign of green on the horizon. You're welcome."_

"Thank you, sir," he said. "You have no idea how much better that makes me feel."

"_You gonna stop bothering me now?"_

"Yes, I am. I was just kidding about the Justin Bieber, by the way."

"_Goodbye, Stark." _And he hung up.

Tony checked his watch; forty-six minutes till the press conference. Time for lunch. The other phone calls could wait; he'd got the one that mattered. Hopefully that soup would be ready soon.

* * *

His announcement couldn't wait for the four o'clock news; they were running continuous coverage of the Storm of the Century (really?), and his press conference was repeated at least five times. It was on the TV in Thor's bedroom when Tony came in to check on the big guy.

"Does my hair look okay? I don't know, I thought it was sticking up in the back." He smiled and tossed over a big box of tissues that he'd bought at the little store down the street, which would be open at the end of the world. "How're you feeling?"

"Like by face is meltig," Thor sniffled. "Where is Lohgi?"

"He's making you soup. And hopefully not burning it this time. You take anything yet?"

The god stared at him blankly.

"Medicine. You take any medicine yet?"

"Doh." He shook his head.

"You should. You sound awful. I'll go get you some after you eat. That okay?"

The thunder god nodded and coughed into the crook of his elbow. "Ohgay."

Just then, Loki came in, carrying a tray with two bowls of soup and a stack of crackers. "Oh, I didn't know you were here," he said to Tony. "Should I fetch another bowl?"

"No, that's okay. I'll get my own. Looks good."

On the TV screen, the earlier version of Tony was saying, _"It has always been part of my plan to share this unlimited clean energy with the rest of the world. Since that's not ready yet, the least I can do is open my doors to those who are still without power, for as long as it takes. You will have hot meals and a warm place to sleep."_

"My hair **is** sticking up in the back," the real-life Tony noted. "I'll have to go comb it before we open the doors. Nah, maybe not; it makes me look like I've been working hard all day."

He went out to the kitchen, where there was a bowl of soup with his name on it. Literally. He didn't know where Pepper had found this relic from his childhood, but he was glad to have it. "So," he asked, glancing over at Natasha and Clint, who were sharing the small sofa, "what were you two up to while I was having a nervous breakdown?"

"Believe it or not," Clint said with a smirk, "watching cartoons. I have the first three seasons of _Garfield and Friends_. That's what we did all morning."

"Sure. Whatever you say. None of my business, anyway."

"Seriously," said Natasha. "That's all we did."

"I'm sorry I asked, now. Oh, look, the snow's stopped. And I can see little plows moving around down there, getting rid of it. Hopefully when that's done, the power company will be able to go out and work, and we won't have guests for more than one night. Don't repeat that, by the way; I don't want to make them feel unwelcome."

Steve, who was sitting at the counter having some soup with his sandwich, said, "Pepper wanted us to remind you that you need to be downstairs by three-thirty, when the supplies start arriving. The doors open to the public at four-thirty. She said it might look good if you were there to personally greet the shelterees when they arrive."

"Meaning she'll kick my ass if I'm not there?"

"Well, she didn't **say **that in so many words, but—"

Tony sighed. "All right. I'll be there. And I'll comb my hair, too."

That evening, once everything was settled and those who would be taking shelter in the lower floors were all in their places, the Avengers gathered to watch a movie. Something tropical, Tony had insisted. Something set in a place where it never snows.

_Blue Hawaii _would do. And it would also serve to introduce Loki and Steve to the wonder that was Elvis Presley. (Thor had been effectively medicated and was now dead to the world, snoring so loud that it made the floors vibrate.)

In the middle of the movie, Tony's phone suddenly started playing "The Imperial March." He was a little confused until he remembered to whom it was that he had assigned that particular ringtone.

"Who's that?" Pepper asked him.

"Darth Furious." He went out into the hall to answer, so as not to disrupt the movie. "What is thy bidding, O Master?"

"_Very funny, Stark. Just wanted to let you know that the airports will be open again tomorrow, so you're taking the 11:00 AM flight to Washington."_

"I'm doing what? Wait a minute . . . why am I going to Washington?"

"_Remember when you said you owed me one?"_

"Yeah, I—oh, no. No, no, no! You are not blackmailing me into taking your turn before the Council! No way!"

"_That's too bad, cause I've got Justin Bieber's new album here, and I know you can't wait to hear it."_

"You are **evil**, Nicholas."

"_Heh, heh, heh. Your tickets are waiting at the gate."_

"I hate you so much."

"_Remember this the next time you ask me to interrupt __**my **__busy schedule to check on __**your **__little boyfriend."_

"He's not my—" Tony protested, but Fury had already hung up. "Great."

"I'll help you pack. I'll come with you, if you want."

He jerked his head up and saw Steve leaning against the wall. "You were listening in on that?"

"I didn't mean to. I was on my way to the bathroom, and I happened to overhear. Why are you going to Washington?"

Tony sighed. "Nick Fury did me a favor, and I . . . kind of told him I'd do anything to make it up to him. So he's making me go and deliver his report to the Council in person for him. Those guys hate me."

"Which is why I should come with you. Besides, you need someone to help you share the burden. I've been watching you all day today, and you've been working your tail off all day long, just one thing after another. Plus, the Council likes me. If I'm there with you, it'll balance out their hatred of you."

"Thanks, I think."

"I'll help you get ready. Is it a one-day trip, or will we be staying overnight?"

"I don't know. In this weather, we could be stuck for days. Better bring extra underwear."

"What did you say to Fury to get him so mad at you?"

"I . . . I threatened him with Justin Bieber."

"I don't know who that is."

"Consider yourself lucky, Stevarino. You don't want to find out." He still wasn't looking forward to flying to Washington, but having someone with him would make it a little less aggravating.

And the next time he needed a favor from Nick Fury, he'd try being nice instead of making threats. It might just work.

* * *

2. War Zone

Nathan's favorite part of the week was Sunday afternoon, when he got to talk to his dad. Sometimes it was on the actual phone, although Nathan had to put his on speaker because he had trouble holding the receiver. Usually it was through the computer, on Skype. He liked that best because he could actually **see** his dad.

They talked for hours about what Nathan was studying in school (a unit on serial killers at the moment, inspired by his love of _Criminal Minds_), his dad's work (or at least the aspects that weren't classified), and what their friends were up to.

It was near the end of their session that Dad said, _"I'm going to Africa next week. I'll be there for about a month, I think. There's an epidemic there, and they need all the doctors they can get."_

"Okay." Nathan knew his dad sometimes took time off to do humanitarian work. Balancing his karma was what he called it.

_"I'm telling you now so you'll know I'll be off the grid for a while. I might be able to call you, but I'm not sure how reliable service will be. If you need to reach me—and I mean an emergency situation—you can call Mr. Fury. But **only **if it's an emergency. If you just need to talk to someone, there are other people you can talk to."_

"What part of Africa?"

_"Just north of Wakanda. I'll give you the details before I head out. Good luck with your tests." It was exam week, and even though Nathan wasn't part of the regular curriculum, there were certain standardized tests that he could not miss out on. _

"Okay. You, too, Dad. With your work, I mean."

Nathan wasn't sure if he'd find any information on the mission, but it wasn't as classified as most of his dad's other work. He wouldn't be going alone, either; there was a team of about ten doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel being shipped in to deal with the epidemic. He hoped they were all briefed on his dad's "medical condition," but at the same time, he didn't want them to treat him like a freak.

And then he read about where they were going.

* * *

"Dad," he said, when he spoke to his father almost a week later, "why didn't you tell me you were headed into a war zone?"

_"That's where people need help the most, buddy."_

"But what if you get shot?"

_"I have someone big and green looking out for me."_

"No, Dad! Not him! He won't know what's going on!"

_"I'll talk to him. He'll be okay. Plus everyone knows that I . . . have special needs."_

"The soldiers won't. They'll just shoot him. And then he'll get mad and smash things. Don't go, Dad. I know you wanna help, but it's too dangerous! Please!"

_"Nathan, these people need me. I can save lives there. We'll have soldiers protecting us. I'll see you in a month, buddy, okay?"_

Nathan knew there was no talking his father out of this now. "Okay, Dad."

_"I'll call you if I can. Or you can talk to Uncle Tony or Uncle Steve. They'll be kept updated on my whereabouts. And you can talk to them just to talk, too."_

"That sounds good." He still wasn't happy about his dad being in such a dangerous place, but he understood that this was something he had to do. "Have a-" No, "have a good time" wasn't right in this case. "See you, Dad. I love you."

_"Love you too, buddy. Now go hit the books. I want to see all A's on your report card. Deal?"_

"Deal." Nathan always got straight A's, anyway, but he would work extra-hard at this just to please his dad. "Bye, Dad. Tell me all about it next month."

_"I will. If not sooner."_ And then that was it. He was gone.

Nathan did as he was told; he picked up his books and studied for his tests. And as he had promised, he got all A's.

* * *

His dad didn't call. Nathan didn't worry at first; he was a busy man, and he was doing important work. But one night, he was watching the news with some of the other students, and when someone tried to change the channel in the middle of a report on the fighting in Wakanda, Nathan barked, "Leave it!"

The student with his hand on the remote, who was fairly new, looked back at him. "What's your problem, man?"

"It's his dad," said Riley.

"What's he, in the military over there?"

"No, he's with a humanitarian group providing medical aid," Nathan explained.

A few of the other students were whispering back and forth. Nathan caught the words "Avengers" and "big green guy", but said nothing.

"Your dad," said the kid with the remote, "is **that** guy?"

"He is."

"That is so cool! So who's stronger, you or him?"

"Can I just watch this, please?" The line of inquiry was making him uncomfortable. "I want to see if they mention him at all."

"Hey, wouldn't it be cool if he Hulked out and went after those troops? And like smashed their Jeeps and stuff-"

"No," Nathan said firmly. "No, it would not be cool at all. Excuse me, I'm going to my room."

He got up and left before he could say or do anything else. Behind him, he heard the kid ask, "What did I do?"

The response was murmured, so he couldn't hear the words, but he recognized Riley's voice. She was such a good friend, protecting him like a little brother. If Nathan had been a little older, he might have taken a romantic interest in her, but he was too young to have a girlfriend yet. Besides, Riley was going out with a senior named Ben.

He got back to his room, threw some things around (not very hard; he'd been lectured too many times about putting holes in the walls), and then called Uncle Tony.

He wasn't there.

Miss Potts (Nathan still didn't feel comfortable calling her Aunt Pepper) explained that he'd gone on a business trip to Washington, D. C. Yes, Uncle Steve was with him. No, she didn't know how to reach his dad.

"I just . . . I just want to make sure he's okay. He hasn't called in a week, and . . ."

_"I get the picture. Don't worry, sweetie; if anything happens to him, this is the first place they'll call. You'll be the second. If I hear anything, I'll let you know right away. Okay?"_

"Thanks," he said. "Do you have time to stay on and talk?"

_"I have a little while. Why? Something else bothering you?"_

"No, I just . . . just wanted to talk. If that's okay."

_"It's fine, Nathan. Tell me how your tests went. Did you pass?"_

"I got the best score in the whole school!"

_"Did you? That's wonderful!"_

They talked for a little while longer, and then Miss Potts had to hang up and call someone about something. But she promised to have Uncle Tony call Nathan as soon as he came in.

He never got the call.

Two days later, a huge black helicopter landed on the school's front lawn. Everyone rushed to the windows overlooking the lawn to see what was going on. Nathan saw the SHIELD emblem on the side and knew that it was for him. And it wasn't good news.

One of the teachers, Miss Kitty, came to find him. "Nathan? There's someone here to see you."

"Okay." He started to follow her out, but then she suggested that he should bring his books. That only made things worse. He wasn't coming back to class. Maybe not back to school for a while. How long did a funeral take?

Who would take care of him now? His mother was dead. His uncle (who'd never liked him anyway) was in prison. Without his dad, he had no one.

Miss Kitty led him to a small conference room where two men were sitting. They stood when they saw him coming. One was Uncle Tony.

The other was Mr. Fury, and he didn't look happy at all.

"Sit down, Nathan," Uncle Tony said. He indicated the chair that had been brought down from Nathan's room, because it was the only one that would hold him.

"What's happened to my dad?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

"Nathan, we're here to-"

"What happened to my dad?" he repeated, louder, as if they hadn't heard the first time. Mr. Fury looked at him, and then handed him a photo. It was blurry, but he saw the large green form at the center.

So he was alive. For now.

"Your dad," Uncle Tony explained, "is very sick. He . . . lost control of himself, as you can see. He hasn't hurt anyone yet, but the longer we sit here, the greater the chance of that happening."

"Start at the beginning, Tony," Mr. Fury said. He was still standing, his arms crossed, a serious expression on his face.

"Fine. We think the fever began two days ago. He abruptly stopped seeing patients, and retreated into his hut to sleep it off."

"I do that, too," Nathan said. He didn't get sick that often, but the few times he had, he preferred to go right to bed and ride it out till it was over. Figures that Dad would do the same thing. "It didn't work, did it?"

Uncle Tony shook his head. "He must have had nightmares or something. The Kenyan nurse who came in to check on him found . . . You Know Who instead. She ran and told everyone that Mutunga walked the earth, and they were being tested."

"Mutunga?" Nathan's brow wrinkled.

"Some sort of local deity," Mr. Fury explained. "Supposed to be the God of Retribution or something. They've evacuated the village, so there aren't any casualties, but he's done a lot of property damage. Mostly to civilian or military buildings-he's left the hospital alone. For now."

"That's okay, isn't it?" Nathan said. "I mean, if no one gets hurt-"

"The soldiers stationed near the village aren't as superstitious as the natives. If they start shooting at him, God only knows what could happen."

Nathan felt as if he might cry. "This is what I was afraid of! I knew something would happen! Can we get him out of there?"

"That," Fury said, "is where you come in. See, once we have him contained, we can move in and sedate him, and then move him to our secure medical facility. But in order to do that, he has to be calm enough for us to approach him."

"It's your voice that does it for him," Uncle Tony said. "Otherwise we'd just airlift in a bunch of Carpenters CDs and call it a day. But he knows you, he trusts you, and if you can get him calmed down enough so that we can approach him, we can remove him from the equation, and then start cleaning up the mess he made."

"So you want me to . . . sing for him?" Nathan wasn't sure he understood.

"Basically, yeah. We need you to bring him back to himself, so that we can help him. We can't send a lot of troops in, or the local warlords will see it as an act of aggression, possibly even an invasion. And that wouldn't be good for anyone."

"We'd like to avoid an international incident if possible," said Mr. Fury. "We've had quite enough of those for one year."

"My dad's not gonna be happy with you bringing me into a war zone," Nathan said.

"We'll bring you right out again, as soon as we can," Uncle Tony told him. "With any luck, they'll never know we were there."

"But we have to leave now," Fury said. "It's your call, Nathan. Will you help us?"

The fact that he'd asked, instead of just telling him, made all the difference. "Of course I will," Nathan said. "What do I need to bring?"

"We've got it covered. We've already talked to your teachers, and they're fine with you being absent for a few days. We shouldn't be gone longer than seventy-two hours. If all goes well."

"Should I bother saying goodbye to anyone?"

"We'll be right back. More or less. Don't waste time we don't have. It'll take us a good twelve hours just to get there, so every moment is precious."

"Who else is coming?"

The two men looked at each other. "Just us," Fury said. "And our pilot. No sense bringing in the big guns when we don't need them. I know you can do this. Let's go."

Nathan nodded and followed them out to the waiting helicopter. He'd never been in one before, and this one was big enough to hold him with room to spare. When he asked, he was told that it was normally used for transporting large cargo.

"That's why there's no seat belts, right?"

"They use straps and bungee cords to tie it down," Fury told him, "but we didn't think you'd like that."

"Uh uh," he said. "I'm not cargo."

"No, you sure aren't, buddy," said Uncle Tony. He came around and handed Nathan something thin and rectangular. "Happy birthday."

"My birthday was in October."

"Well, happy . . . Valentine's Day, then. Whatever. This is our newest tablet computer, just for you. Comes with 4G, Wi-Fi, sixteen games, a boatload of apps, **and** all your schoolwork for the next month. Plus enough movies and TV shows to keep you occupied all the way to Wakanda and back. Check out the ones in the 'Personal' folder—they're hilarious."

"I don't even want to know." Fury shook his head and sighed.

* * *

The trip was long and boring. Nathan watched all the TV shows (an entire season of _Spongebob _among them), checked out one or two of the Personal videos (the folder, he thought, should have been renamed "Blackmail Material", since it featured nearly all of the Avengers in awkward and embarrassing situations), played three different variations of Angry Birds, and wrote a paper on the secret history of SHIELD. (Which no one but his teachers, most of whom had relatively high security clearances, would ever read.) He would have stared out the window, but there were no windows in the cargo compartment.

Then he found the tablet's music library. There was an entire playlist of his mother's favorite songs, one of Nathan's favorite songs, and one of mostly hard rock and metal groups like Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath that was labeled "Good Music." He could guess where that had come from.

"Did you check out the special features?" Uncle Tony asked him.

"What special features?"

"Can I show you?" Nathan nodded, and the older man took the tablet and pressed something. "See, you put it into Music mode, like this, and then go to this screen like this, and then press this." Lyrics suddenly filled the screen.

"Wow! What did you do to get that?"

"Music, Songs, Next, then tap right here, where the arrow is, and it takes you to the Lyrics screen. I don't know if all the songs have them, but definitely everything on the Mom playlist does. So you have time to learn them before we get there."

"Wow," Nathan said again. "I won't break it, will I?'

"No, it's pretty durable. You could run over it with a car and that glass won't break. So don't worry about jabbing it too hard. I purposely built it extra-tough so that you won't have to be afraid of breaking it. This is the prototype; the production model will probably be seven inches, not twelve. It'll have all the same features, though."

"All my friends will want one!"

"That's great! Put the iPad right out of business. Well, maybe. Enjoy it, kid."

"Thanks, Uncle Tony." He played around with it some more, finding out all the things it could do. It had a built-in camera, too, but there was nothing here to take a picture of, so he just left that one alone for now.

"You can download all your pictures onto here and show your friends."

"Even the one of your butt?"

"When did you take a picture of my butt?"

"I didn't say **I **took it." He was smiling, and after a minute, both of them broke up in laughter as they realized who had been behind the camera.

"I'm gonna have a word or two with your dad, as soon as we get him out of where he is to someplace safe. When the crisis is averted, I mean. No pictures of anyone's butt allowed. I'll have to delete my Personal Photos file. It's not all butts," he explained hastily, as Fury went into "I don't want to know" mode again. "Some of them are awkward sleeping positions. Goofy faces—your dad does the best goofy faces I've ever seen. And feet. Although I think that was when I gave the camera to Thor, and he didn't know what to do with it."

"It needs a cool name," Nathan said. "What should I call it?"

"Call it whatever you want, buddy. The voice control isn't name-dependent, so even if you name it something embarrassing, it won't get too attached to the name. It should be something you don't have to spend a lot of time explaining."

"Penelope isn't hard to explain."

"To some people it is. Don't worry about it, though. Call it anything. I promise not to make fun of it, even if it's something like Squidward Morgan Carly Purplepants."

That made Nathan laugh. "That's a silly name!"

"You can do better than that, right?"

"Yeah! Let me think a while."

"You've got about an hour before we make our final approach," said Fury. "Leave all your belongings here. A Jeep will be meeting us to take us to where the Hulk was last seen. Then it's up to you. You sure you can do this, Nathan?"

"I'm sure," he said. "Poor Dad, I hope he's okay. I hope he doesn't kill anyone."

"I don't think he will," Uncle Tony said. "Someone might get hurt, if they get too close, but I doubt he'd kill anyone, even in the state he's in right now. He doesn't know what he's doing. If we're lucky, he'll never know."

They landed a short time later. A black Humvee was waiting for them with the engine running. Nathan looked at it, not sure if he'd fit inside.

The driver, in a khaki uniform and helmet, got out, and then stared at Nathan in awe. "What the hell is **that**?"

"That," said Fury, "is our only hope for getting the Hulk out of here without any further damage. To him or Buturu. That's the name of the village," he explained to Nathan.

The boy took this opportunity to step forward. The agent took a step back. Nathan didn't hold it against him. "Hi," he said. "I'm Nathan. Where's my dad?"

"Your dad? The Hulk is your dad?" The agent looked him up and down. "Figures. You as strong as he is?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna fight him? Can I put it on YouTube?"

"No, you can **not**," Fury said firmly. "There won't be any fight. Contain and remove, that's our mission. Your job, Agent Keach, is to get us there and back again. Nothing more. If I see anything on YouTube with your name on it, you'll be cleaning latrines for a month."

"Yes, sir," Keach said, and held the door for Nathan. The Humvee was a little smaller than Uncle Tony's Hummer, but there was room for him to fit, only just. The other three men climbed in, and they were off.

Unlike the helicopter, the Humvee did have windows. Nathan looked out at the landscape as they drove through the grasslands. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't something so . . . empty. He'd learned in his research that Wakanda was mostly savannah, but reading it and seeing it were two different things.

Still, he thought, it was probably a good thing that his dad was out here in the middle of nowhere when he . . . changed. Once he got away from the village, there wasn't much that could be smashed out here. Or would that just make him angrier?

_He's not himself, _Nathan reminded himself. _He's sick. He's not thinking clearly. Don't try to reason with him, just sing. _

"What's wrong, buddy?" Uncle Tony asked him. He was sitting in the seat beside him (or, to be more accurate, the half-seat beside him, since Nathan took up most of the room), and he reached out and put a hand on Nathan's arm.

"I'm just worried about my dad. He's really sick, right? What if he . . .?"

"He won't. We'll get to him before that happens. That's why you're here. We could just wait for him to pass out and move in then, but . . . the Other Guy has kept him going for a while. And while he's wandering around, the risk gets worse. We want to minimize the risk to himself and others, and keep as much attention as possible away from him. That's why we have a team leading the soldiers off in the wrong direction."

Nathan stared at him. "You have another team leading them away?"

"We do," said Fury. "So far, so good. Unless they figure it out in the next twenty minutes and double back, we should be able to get in and get out before they know what's going on. So work fast."

"I will, sir." He already knew what he was going to sing. Had the words all memorized, too, though the words didn't really matter. It was the sound of his voice that would do the trick.

He hoped it would be enough.

They spotted the trail of destruction—broken branches, crashed trees, and those huge footprints in the dirt—a few minutes later. Agent Keach drove a little faster, trying to catch up. And before long, they did.

"I'm gonna try to get around in front of him," Agent Keach said.

"No!" Fury ordered him. "He'll just try to smash the Humvee. We don't have an unlimited supply of vehicles equipped to carry . . . larger than normal passengers. Just get the sedative ready. It's in the medkit. You know how to use one?"

"Yeah, sure. My mom's a diabetic. I know my way around a syringe."

"Good. Nathan . . . you're up. Do us proud, son."

Nathan nodded and called out, "Dad!"

Fifteen yards ahead of him, the huge green creature stopped in his tracks as he recognized the voice. He looked back over his shoulder.

Nathan began to sing.

The first song was an ABBA song, "The Winner Takes it All." It was kind of pretty, but sad. The boy had a little trouble with the high notes, but he managed most of them without his voice breaking, and by the end, he was belting out like a diva. Tony was proud of him.

More importantly, the Hulk was listening. He was still on his feet, but barely.

"Should I move in and give him the meds now, sir?" Keach asked.

"Not yet," said Fury. "Don't distract him. Give the kid a little more time."

"Yes, sir."

The next selection was "I Honestly Love You" by Olivia Newton-John. Tony could remember his mother singing it to him, when he was a child. It sounded strange in Nathan's voice, but the emerald giant was spellbound.

"Now, sir?" asked Keach.

"No! Not till I give the signal!"

When Nathan sang "Someone Like You" by Adele, Tony figured out that there was a theme here. Regret. Regret, and lost love, something no ten-year-old should know anything about. But then, no other ten-year-old had been locked in a cage and tortured for half his life.

Maybe Nathan was feeling regret for the family he never had. His mother had never really loved him—she had been so afraid that SHIELD would come and break down the door and take him away that she had refused to become attached to him. She hadn't even given him a name. And he hadn't met his father until after she was dead.

What would it have been like for this kid to grow up in a real family, with two loving parents, and a white picket fence and a dog named Buster and the whole deal? How could he miss what he had never had?

What was that noise? Sounded like . . .

"Someone's coming," he said to the others.

"Shit!" Fury glanced over his shoulder, saw the approaching Jeep. "You bring your . . . supplies?"

"Got 'em."

"Intercept those troops before they see the Hulk and start shooting at him. Keach, get the syringe ready."

"Now, sir?"

"Soon. Soon as Stark moves out, we move in. While he's still calm. Nathan, you just keep singing, okay?"

Nathan nodded, never missing a note. He sang an extra couple of choruses of "Someone Like You," since the Scary Guy seemed to like it. He barely noticed when Uncle Tony suited up and flew off to engage the soldiers, leading them off in the wrong direction. He did hear some gunshots, but he sang louder to try and cover them up.

And then Agent Keach moved faster than Nathan had thought possible, reaching the Hulk's side and jabbing the syringe into his arm before he had time to react. The thing was about the size of a baseball bat, and it had to hurt. The Hulk roared with pain as the needle stabbed him, but then he heard the singing, and calmed down again.

Nathan never stopped singing. He sang "Midnight at the Oasis," which had worked before, so he knew it would work now.

"I think it's taking effect," Mr. Fury said. "But don't stop just yet."

Hulk was sitting on the ground now, swaying back and forth to the music. Then he slid sideways until he was lying on the ground, head in the grass. He closed his eyes . . . and shrank.

"Wow," said Agent Keach. "Never seen that before. Uh, boss, he's—"

"I know. Nathan," Fury called, "could you bring the backpack of extra clothes?"

Nathan nodded and went to get it out of the Humvee. He kept singing, just in case, but it looked like Dad was out cold at last. He handed the backpack to Mr. Fury and turned away, not wanting to see his dad naked and helpless.

"We'll take it from here," Fury said. "Go get in the vehicle and wait for Stark to come back. Keach, give me a hand here."

"Sir, do I have to—"

"Yes, you have to. Nathan, it's okay. We're gonna take good care of your dad. Get in the vehicle. It should be unlocked."

"I can help."

"You've been very helpful already. We got this. Go wait in the Humvee."

Nathan knows better than to keep arguing. He goes and waits in the back seat of the Humvee, and watches out the window for Uncle Tony. Soon enough, he appeared, a bright red streak against the hard blue of the sky. He came down right beside the vehicle, and the suit retracted into those fancy bracelets that Nathan had noticed earlier but hadn't thought to ask about.

"Everything okay, kid?"

"They've got him," Nathan said. "He'll be fine."

"Good. We'll take him back to the copter and fly him to our super-secret medical facility in the States. And then we're taking you back to school."

"Can I stay until he wakes up?"

"Not my call, buddy, but I'll see what I can do." He got in and sat beside Nathan, smiling. Mission accomplished. No better feeling in the world.

When Fury and Keach carried Nathan's dad back to the Humvee and carefully put him in the very back, Nathan tried to climb over the seat to sit back there with him.

"Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?" Uncle Tony saw him struggling and got out of the car. "Here, come on. Get back there."

"We have to go!" Keach said nervously.

"Let him get in the back! Only take a minute!"

Nathan slid out and climbed in the back as carefully and as quickly as he could. He then sat with his dad's head in his lap, all the way back to the helicopter. He didn't sing—it would have been a waste of breath—but he kept stroking his dad's hair back from his fevered brow, trying to be careful not to scratch him with his claws.

"He's gonna be all right now, isn't he?" Nathan asked, when they were loading him into the copter.

"He should sleep all the way back to the States," Mr. Fury told him. "Once we get him to our hospital, he'll be fine. And you can go back to school."

"I want to stay with him till he wakes up."

"That could be a while. That sedative was pretty powerful."

"Please? I just don't want him to wake up alone in a strange place."

"He won't be alone."

"I think he'd feel better if I were there."

Fury considered it for a long moment. "All right. But as soon as he wakes up, you say your goodbyes, and you go back to school. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"We're going to be taking off now. Brace yourself."

"I will." He found a place where he could hang on without breaking anything, and he did so. Once they were safely in the air, he took out the tablet computer and opened the e-mail program.

_Guess where I am, guys?_

* * *

It was the smooth white ceiling that told Bruce Banner that he was no longer in Africa. He could hear the beeping of various monitors and knew that he was in a hospital, but the small field hospital in the village had a wooden ceiling. It wasn't the canvas of his tent, either.

"Where . . . where am I?" he mumbled, trying to sit up.

"Dad!" There was a blur, and then something heavy and furry was on top of him, threatening to crush the air out of his lungs.

"Hey, hey! Easy there, buddy! Don't hurt him!"

He knew that voice, too. "Tony? What are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass. I owed you." He shrugged, as if it was nothing. "The kid's here to keep you calm."

"Nathan?"

The boy had backed off, and stood a short distance away looking down at his father. "How're you feeling, Dad?"

"Not so bad. I'll be okay."

"You gave us quite a scare. Or should I say, **he** did."

He knew that voice, too. "Director Fury. Mind explaining why you brought a ten-year-old into a war zone?"

"That ten-year-old was the only chance we had of getting you out of the war zone in one piece. Fortunately, it worked."

"Thanks in no small part to the incredibly awesome Iron Man." He could hear the smirk in Tony's voice without having to look at him.

"You still haven't answered my question. Where am I? This isn't Africa. Where is it?"

"Our secure medical facility," Fury told him, "in Miami. Once you're strong enough, we'll head back to New York."

"When do I get to go back to Buturu?"

The three of them looked at him.

"You're kidding, right?" Tony gave him a skeptical look.

"No, I'm not, actually. My work is not yet finished. When do I go back and finish it?"

"You're not," said Fury. "We have ground crews moving in to repair the damage he caused. Two more specialists are arriving today to deal with the epidemic. Everything's taken care of. You just concentrate on getting well."

"Yeah, Dad," Nathan said. "We worked too hard to get you out of there. You're not going back. I didn't want you there in the first place!"

Bruce looked at his son for a long moment, wondering just how the boy could be smarter than he was. "You were right," he said. "It was too dangerous. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. Now get back to school and I'll call you as soon as I can."

The boy looked at Tony, who said, "He's in good hands here. Grab your stuff and let's go."

"Okay." Nathan leaned down and gently kissed his father on the forehead. "Bye, Dad. See you soon."

"Love you, buddy."

"I love you, too." He picked up his bag and left the room.

"He's quite a kid," Fury said. "And they wanted to use him as a weapon."

"Who did? Micky and Jack, you mean?"

"The project was cancelled for a reason. After your . . . accident, it was decided that a super-soldier that we couldn't control was no use to us, so we discontinued the program. We didn't even know he existed until he attacked the students from the Xavier Academy."

"The same people who gave him a home," Bruce mused.

"He is so much more than a mindless beast. If it weren't for his . . . physical abnormalities, he could go far in the world of academia."

"Hank McCoy got his degree through the mail. With the technology these days, Nathan could go to college without ever having to set foot in a classroom. He learned his way around a computer in no time. He has a special affinity for military history. I can see him becoming a great tactician."

"But only if he wants to," Fury agreed. "He's not our property. We don't own him. He won't be pushed into anything without his consent. Or yours."

"I grew up with a father who wanted me to be something I wasn't. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him. I never planned to have kids, but . . . I'm very proud of Nathan. Would life be easier if he looked like everyone else? Of course it would. Would he still be the same person if he did? That is the big question."

"You've done very well with him so far."

"Growing up in a war zone gives you a respect for life. I want him to live the way he wants, not what anyone else thinks he should do. Is that wrong?"

"Of course not." Fury had no children of his own, but he had two nieces and a nephew, and he knew something about expectations. "You're doing everything right. Now get some rest. I'll be back later to take your report and get the transfer paperwork started."

"Okay." He settled back in the bed and tried to relax. "Thanks. For everything."

"Just doing my job," Fury said, and he went out and quietly shut the door behind him.

* * *

3. It's Almost Valentine's Day

It was amazing how a day that fell on the same date every year, that was clearly marked on the calendar in red, and that Tony had left several reminders in his organizer not to forget, could still sneak up on him all of a sudden, like a ninja.

_Stupid ninja holiday, _he thought, as he looked at the third reminder notice, which said simply **RING! **As if he could forget that.

It was now the ninth of February. Eight days since the Blizzard of '13. Five days since he'd gotten back from Washington, and ended up going right back out again. Three days since he'd brought Bruce Banner home from Africa in a Medevac helicopter. Two days until he'd be flown back to New York from the hospital in Miami where he was currently recuperating.

And five days till Valentine's Day.

Which meant he had to make the reservations, arrange for the accommodations, and go ring shopping **now**. He couldn't wait till the Beebster was back among them, as much as he wanted the man's help in picking out the ring.

Well, he had other guy friends. Sure, he could always ask Steve . . . oh, wait, Steve was still in Washington, and would be until the end of the week. (See, it didn't pay to have the Council like you; it meant they wanted to keep you around as long as possible. Whereas Tony, they hated and got rid of as soon as they could.) Clint didn't mind helping him out . . . no, he and Natasha were in Northern Ireland—had just left that morning, in fact. They wouldn't be back until after the Fourteenth.

Happy was at the house in Malibu. Rhodey was on assignment; who did that leave?

Thor? No. He wasn't the best of shopping buddies, easily distracted as he was. And he was still banned from the mall after the Santa incident at Christmas time.

Loki?

_Am I out of my mind?_

So who was left, then?

* * *

"Where are we going?" Nathan asked, when Tony picked him up.

"I need you to come shopping with me."

"Why? Couldn't you get Miss Potts to help you?"

"No, I can't. See, what I'm getting is a surprise for her."

He was lucky that it was a weekend. He had bribed the kid with a sleepover and a call to his dad, to get him to leave the _Criminal Minds _marathon that he was watching with his friends. Nathan might not know much about engagement rings, but it was better than grabbing some random stranger off the street and asking his opinion. Or bringing along either of the two gods, which was just asking for trouble.

"What kind of surprise?"

"Well, you know that Valentine's Day is coming up, right?"

"I know. There was a dance at the high school last night. Riley went with Ben, but he ditched her for some other girl. That's why she just wanted to hang out and watch TV."

"And you were consoling her? I dragged you away from a friend who needed you?"

"You're family. You need me more."

"Well . . . thanks. But you should have told me. I wouldn't have been such a pest. I'll bring you back after we get what we came for, if you want."

"No, it's okay. I'll call her and see how she's doing. Julia and Katrina are with her, so she's not all alone."

"Well, that's good." It was nice that the kid had friends at his school. Bruce had been worried that his early isolation would make connections problematic for the boy, but it seemed that he had no trouble on that end.

_He's only monstrous on the outside. Once you get past the fur and the horns and the scales and the bear claws, he's the nicest kid you ever met. So why can't people see past the outside? Why does he need hardware to hide what's a lie in the first place?_

They hit weekend traffic and stalled for a while, but it gave them a chance to talk. "You passed all your tests, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Straight A's."

"I always got straight A's, too, but my dad didn't make as big a deal of it as yours does. Half the stuff I invented when I was your age was just to get his attention, and it never worked."

"That doesn't mean he didn't love you." Bless his furry little heart.

"It would have been nice to hear it, though. Just once. You want to listen to some music? My channel this time. We listened to your music the last time you came over. Now it's my turn."

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole."

"What's that from?" he asked.

"_Supernatural_. The girls watch it cause the guys in the show are so good-looking, but I like it, too. It's scary, but it's interesting."

"Really? I'll have to watch that one." As if he had time, especially right now. The demos of his new product line had to be ready by the beginning of April, and though he wasn't personally working on any of them, his name was on everything, so he had to make sure they were ready on time. He had a lot of factory tours scheduled for March.

He turned on the radio to the station he had created, full of hard rock and heavy metal. Led Zeppelin's "Rock and Roll" came blaring out of the speakers. Nathan was a bit startled at first, but soon enough he got into the pounding rhythm and wailing vocals.

"You know what?" Tony shouted over the music, as the Hummer inched forward slowly, then stopped again.

"What?"

"I had a premonition something was wrong with your dad. Or about to go wrong, anyway. I tried to call him, and I couldn't get through. So I had Mr. Fury send one of his guys to check on him. He reported that all was well, but I wonder now. I think that might have been the night that your dad went to bed early because he was starting to get sick. But all I was told was that he was busy, and everything was all right. So I went to Washington, and I came back, and then I get a call that the Hulk's been sighted in Zimbabwe, and . . . you know the rest of the story."

"Yeah. I'm glad everything turned out okay."

"Me, too. Hey, buddy! Pick a lane!" he shouted at a car in front of them, which was straddling two lanes and causing further delays.

"Do you think I should give Riley something special for Valentine's Day?" Nathan asked, out of the blue.

Tony didn't know how to answer that. "I don't know. What kind of something special were you thinking of?"

"She likes jewelry. I could get her a necklace, or a bracelet."

"I don't know, buddy. This girl is a friend, right?"

"Yeah."

"Is she more than a friend?"

"What do you mean?"

"You don't want to go giving her the wrong idea, especially when she's just broken up with someone. Jewelry is, I think, a few levels ahead of where you are right now. Maybe a cute little teddy bear, or a card."

"I have cards for everyone. But I really like Riley, and I want her to feel better. What should I give her, then?"

"You know what? Oh, cram it, sunshine!" he shouted, as a red Honda tried to cut them off and honked its horn loudly. "We'll keep an eye out for just the right thing to give her, and when it makes itself known, you can get it. But first, you have to help me get Pepper's something special. And I mean really special. The most special thing I've ever given her."

The boy's brown eyes were wide. "What kind of special thing?"

"An engagement ring. How special is that?"

"You're gonna marry her?"

"I haven't asked her yet, so don't spoil the surprise. She knows we're going out Thursday night, but she doesn't know why. Or maybe she does. She's pretty sharp. Just don't give it away, okay? Move, dammit!" The traffic up ahead had started to move, but the car in front of them hadn't gotten the memo yet. Tony honked the horn twice to drive the point home.

"Is this what they call road rage?"

"This isn't rage. Not yet. If this **fucking asshole**," he swore, "doesn't move **right now**, then you're gonna see some rage! Good, about time!" The car in front had finally decided to move forward, but not nearly fast enough. Tony gave him a blast of the horn, and then said, "Sorry about the bad language. Don't tell Uncle Steve, okay?"

"I thought he was still in Washington."

"He might call. What do you want for dinner tonight? You can have anything you want. Anything. Pizza, burgers, chicken, whatever. You can look through my extensive library of take-out menus to decide what you want, and I'll pay for it."

"Can you make pasta? With lots of meatballs?"

"You know what? I think we may have some sauce left over in the freezer. I'll bring it up and thaw it out for you. And we'll have tons and tons of ice cream."

"What flavor?" Nathan wanted to know.

Tony grinned. "All of them."

The mall closed at nine on Saturdays; they made it into the parking garage at quarter past five. Still plenty of time to shop.

There were three jewelry stores in the mall, not counting the one for fourteen-year-olds. That one probably didn't have any engagement rings, so Tony decided it would be best to stick to the other three. Two were on the first floor; the third was on the next floor, way down at the other end of the mall from where they were. Maybe they'd get lucky and find that special something in one of the first two.

Alas, luck was not with them. The first jewelry store had such a small selection of diamond engagement rings that Tony felt insulted. "We just had a big sale," the sales person explained, but he didn't want to hear it. He and Nathan made their way to the second store (while struggling to keep the kid out of the toy, gift, electronics, and music stores along the way), where the diamond displays were a bit more extensive, although he still couldn't find one that met his criteria.

"It has to be big," he said in the third store, "but not too big. I don't want it to be too flashy, but if it's too small, she'll think I'm being cheap. Just something good-sized that she can show off and be proud of."

"I think I have just the thing." The man nodded and brought out a tray of medium-sized diamond rings. "This one is multi-faceted, to catch the light when she waves it around. It comes with a Certificate of Authenticity and is guaranteed for life."

"Take it, Uncle Tony," Nathan said. "It's nice."

"I don't know . . ." He knew Pepper would love this ring, but he wanted to explore his other options before committing. "What else have you got?"

"Well, this is one of our most popular pieces . . ."

An hour later, after seeing every diamond engagement ring the store had to offer, Tony finally settled on the first one he'd been shown. "And I need a set of matching wedding bands," he added.

"Of course, sir." The salesman went into another display case and found a set of wedding bands in exactly the same style as the engagement ring. "We can have them sized and ready for you in a few days. Do you know what size the young lady requires?"

"Um, no . . ." He should have borrowed one of her rings to find out the size. "She's, um, she's a size six, in clothes, if that helps."

"You don't know her ring size?"

"Please, I have to have it by Valentine's Day. Can't I just take that one home and see if it fits her? I can return it, can't I?"

"Yes, sir, although after our rings have been sized they are no longer returnable."

"Fine. I'll take this one for now, and come back for the wedding bands when I know her size. You take Mastercard, right?"

After the ring was bought and paid for, Nathan insisted on browsing one of the little gift shops for a gift for Riley. "It has to be special," he said. "And make her feel better."

"Get her a box of chocolates. Women love chocolate, especially when they've just been dumped."

"She can't eat chocolate. Or anything with sugar in it."

"Why? Is she a diabetic?"

"Yeah. She has to inject herself every day. It kinda freaked me out at first, but she says she doesn't really think about it anymore. It's just part of her."

"Okay, so no chocolates. How about a cute little stuffed animal? This puppy is cute."

"She doesn't like dogs, either."

"Boy, she's hard to shop for. Here we go: musical bear." He squeezed it, and it played "Just the Way You Are." "I like this one. Do you like it?"

"I do." Nathan listened to the song until it stopped, and then squeezed the bear again, to hear it again.

"Don't do that too many times, or you'll wear out the batteries before you even give it to her. Anything else? Flowers? Edible underwear?"

Nathan giggled at that. "Uncle Tony! You're terrible!"

"I know. That's what everybody tells me. How about a mug? Put the bear in the mug, there you go. That's a nice gift."

"I hope she likes it."

As they waited in line to pay, Tony's phone began playing Led Zeppelin. _Who's that? "Hammer of the Gods"? Hammer . . . oh, boy. Forgot about them._

He answered the call. "What's up, Blondie?"

"_Friend Tony! Where are you?"_

"Oh, just . . . out shopping. Picking up a few things. How are you and Frosty getting along?"

"_Very well! We are playing games of the video right now. When is dinner?"_

Typical Thor, thinking with his stomach. "As soon as I get home. I'm making pasta. Oh, by the way, we have company."

"_Company?"_

"Nathan asked if he could stay with us this weekend." _Sure he did. _"So be nice."

"_I have never been anything else to the Hulkson! I have missed the child, and so has my brother, though he will not admit it."_

"Okay. I'll see you in a little while. Don't leave the place a mess, okay?"

"_That is a jest, am I right?"_

"Yeah, whatever. Later, big guy." He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket.

"What are they doing?" Nathan asked him.

"Playing video games. We can watch movies later, if you want."

"Scary movies?"

"Not too scary. We'll see."

Finally it was their turn to pay, and they brought their items to the counter. "Oh, this is cute!" the cashier said, holding up the bear. "Who's this for? Mom?"

Nathan blinked at her, and Tony felt annoyed; he really didn't feel like explaining what had happened to Nathan's mom. "No. It's for a girl."

"Oh, how nice. Do you need gift wrap for this?"

"You can do that?" Tony asked. "How much extra?"

"Just the cost of the wrapping paper. Would that be all right?"

"Yes, please," said Nathan. "Oh, and the mug goes with it."

"Very well." She tucked the bear inside the mug and wrapped them both in red paper with white hearts on it. "She's going to be very happy with this, I think."

"I hope so."

They made it home by seven, and Tony started the water boiling for the pasta and defrosted the sauce, hoping it would be enough. It should be, for four people, but when three of them were big eaters, that presented a problem. Maybe he'd just go light on the sauce.

"Where were you?" Thor asked, as he waited his turn for the game controller.

"Valentine's Day shopping," said Nathan, never taking his eyes off the game.

"What is Valentine's Day?"

"It's a day when you give gifts and cards and stuff to the people you love," the boy explained.

"But . . . why? Why on this particular day?"

"I dunno. Google it."

"Google . . .?"

"I showed you how to do that! Favorites, then click on , and then type what you want in the search box and press Enter."

The god's face was clouded with confusion. "I think you had better show me how to do this Google."

"Okay, I'll be right back!" He paused the game and ran to get his laptop, Penelope. The machine, which was custom-built to accommodate Nathan's oversized hands, took up the entire coffee table.

The next few hours were spent teaching the two gods the basics of Internet search engines, instant messaging, Skype, and online shopping. Loki was a bit quicker to pick it up than Thor was, but however many times Nathan had to explain a concept, he never lost his patience.

"So I can buy this item here," Thor said, pointing to the screen, "and it will arrive in New Mexico on Thursday?"

"Sooner, if you want. If you click 'Shipping Options,' it tells you how fast you can have it shipped, and how much extra it'll cost."

"Why does it cost extra?" Loki wanted to know.

"Cause they gotta do extra work, I guess. But Standard Shipping will still get it there on time. Or you could go for Two-Day Shipping. That's only $6.99 extra."

"And Jane will receive this book?"

"Yeah."

"This exact one?"

"Yes, that one."

"Tell me again: how does it come out of the computer?"

Tony brought in three plates of pasta, and set them on the floor since there wasn't room on the table. "Why don't we pick out a movie for tonight?"

"Friend Tony, does everyone in this realm shop on the line?"

"A lot of people. You don't want to buy from just anybody, though. But Amazon's pretty good about shipping on time. Don't go for the added insurance, though; it's a rip-off."

"In-sur-ance?"

"Never mind. Can I convince you to take a break from exploring the World Wide Marketplace long enough to eat your dinner before it gets cold?"

Later, they watched _Ghostbusters _and ate Cheese Doodles and Doritos until their fingers and tongues were orange. This, Tony explained to Nathan, was a guy sleepover: girls watched chick flicks and did each other's hair and makeup; guys ate lots of junk food and stayed up till all hours watching scary or funny movies. _Ghostbusters _wasn't that scary, but it was funny.

Around ten o'clock, Pepper came in, to find the TV on and turned to a blue screen, all four males asleep on the sofas, a pile of orange crumbs in the rug, and empty bottles all over the place. Fortunately, they were Pepsi bottles.

"Guy sleepover," she said, and debated picking up after them before dismissing the thought and going to bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small pink box sitting on the edge of the counter, and she picked it up. _Long's Jewelers _was written across the top, and now she had to open it.

It was a diamond ring.

_Who is he buying diamonds for?_

She tried it on; it was just a little bit too big for her. Why would he buy a ring that wasn't her size?

And then she noticed the note in the bag about sizing services.

_Of course. He didn't know my size, or didn't know that they come in different sizes. He just bought the first one he saw. Well, I'll pretend to be surprised._

And wait till he saw the Valentine's Day gift she had for **him**.


	4. February, pt 2

1. Attempting to Communicate

Why did bed rest have to be so boring?

Bruce had been back in the tower for nine hours, twenty-seven minutes, and . . . six seconds, and he had already become so bored that he wanted to die.

_You're not allowed to die, _Tony had told him, when they brought him home. Strange to think of the tower as home now. First time in years he'd actually had one. _You're too important, and too clever, and I—we need you too much._

All right, so maybe not die. But maybe collapse into a coma from lack of anything else to do.

_You have a state-of-the-art entertainment center with all your favorite movies, and anything else you care to watch on demand. You have books stacked all the way up to the ceiling! How can you be bored?_

But he was. They had all gone out somewhere, each in a different direction, and left him all alone here. True, he had **said **that he didn't need a babysitter, but did that mean that they **all **had to leave at once?

There was one thing he could do. He closed his eyes and began to call up his "quiet place" in his mind, to get it fully formed before summoning his other half to join him.

He had heard about the technique in psychological journals: create a quiet place, a safe place, to which he could retreat when he needed to. Bruce's quiet place was a room indoors, a study or a library, filled with books from floor to ceiling. The window seat was soft and inviting, and there was another chair, larger and heavily reinforced, for his guest. The view was that of a colorful garden, in the middle of summer. Sometimes there would be a white, long-haired cat purring on one of the book shelves, but today the cat was roaming elsewhere.

He sat down in the window seat (the cushions were pink and beige, and he realized that they were the ones from his childhood home. Pink and beige were his mother's favorite colors) and waited for the Hulk to appear.

There was a low growling sound. He looked up, and saw his other half in the large chair, looking uncomfortable, as he always did.

"What puny Banner want?" He had the diction of a caveman. It was Bruce's imagination, so he could have had his alter ego quoting Shakespearean sonnets if he wanted, but somehow that just didn't seem right.

"I just want to talk to you. About what happened in Buturu."

"Where that?"

"The village in Africa. Do you remember?"

"No."

Okay. Don't push him. Move on to a different subject. "Tony's promised you your own room, full of stuff to smash. Does that sound like fun?"

"Smash?"

"Yeah. He said it's not quite ready yet, but it will be by the time we're up and around. I want you to feel at home here, too."

"Where Lightning Man?"

"Thor? He's around." Bruce had been surprised to find that his other half both respected and obeyed the Asgardian, but he supposed it was because Thor was one of the few people who wasn't afraid of Hulk. And also one of the few who could spar with him hand to hand and not get hurt.

"Want fight Lightning Man."

"Not yet, buddy. We're not strong enough yet. One week of bed rest, one week of light duty. Then we'll be ready for action."

"Where Nathan?"

"He's back at his school. I talked to him yesterday, before I came home. He might come visit again this weekend."

"School?"

"He has to stay at his school, to learn things."

It was hard trying to talk to the Hulk. Bruce had to keep his words and concepts simple, and that wasn't always easy for him to do. If he wasn't careful, his little sanctuary could wind up smashed all around him.

"Mine! My Nathan! Mine!"

"Yes, of course he is," Bruce said, although technically that wasn't possible; Nathan had been born years before the accident that had created the Hulk. On the other hand, the rage and fury that had given birth to him had started a long time ago. But it was best not to get too technical with the Hulk, lest he get confused and start smashing things. "He'll be here for vacation in April, and you can practice with him then."

"Want Nathan now!"

"No," he said firmly, trying not to raise his voice. "Now it's time to rest and be quiet. I'll let you paint pictures." There was an easel set up on the other side of the room, and a tub of purple finger paint. Sometimes, to calm himself, Hulk would paint what he saw of the world. Bruce had chosen purple paint because red was too angry, and green would be too hard to clean up. (Purple wasn't much better, but at least he could see it clearer.)

"Paint?"

"Go for it. Just be careful not to get any on the rug." The carpet in this imaginary room was a light green plush, like the one in his Santa Fe apartment. He had loved to walk around barefoot, feeling the texture with his toes. It was a bitch and a half to clean, though.

Hulk went to the easel, dipped his index finger in the already-open paint tub, and began drawing lines on the paper. Bruce watched him, deep in meditation now. This was the voice of his subconscious, trying to find expression. He waited to see what it would come up with this time.

One corner of this room was taken up with past Hulk pictures, pinned on a cork board to remind him of what was bothering him at different points in time. It was actually therapeutic to stick those pictures in the corner and have them, but not have to deal with them the whole time. He could look at them, or not look at them, as he chose.

Sometimes the painted lines on the page made no recognizable pattern. Other times, he could see crude figures or objects making themselves known on the paper. One from the last session was of a huge green figure and a smaller purple one, holding hands. He took this as a sign that Hulk wanted to be friends. Well, they were working on that.

There wasn't a clock in this room. The constant tick, tick, tick would have been too distracting. He didn't know what time it was, but it couldn't have been too long. He looked out the window at the garden, but the shadows remained constant; it was always around two o'clock here, no matter what time it was outside this room. He'd have to come out of this meditative state if he wanted to find out what time it was, but he didn't want to do that until he had seen what Hulk was painting.

The emerald giant sketched a line a bit too far, frowned at it, tried to erase it, and when he found he couldn't, tore off the paper with a growl of rage and crushed it into a ball, which he tossed aside. The second attempt went much better; Bruce could actually see a picture forming. It was a horned figure with wavy lines representing fur and big, round eyes.

Nathan.

It wasn't an exact likeness, of course, but at least it was recognizable as his (their?) son. When Hulk showed it to him, Bruce said, "That's good, buddy. I'll put it right in the corner there, and you can look at it next time."

"Next time?"

"It's time to go." There was a creak as the door, covered in fancy carvings and with a small window at eye level, opened a crack. This was symbolic of Bruce's desire to end this session. "I know you miss him. We'll see him soon. Come on, let's go."

He opened his eyes . . .

For half a second, he had expected to see that crude line drawing of Nathan pinned across the room, but of course that was a different room. It was always a little disorienting to come out of the deep meditation, even more so when it happened suddenly. He gradually became aware of a presence in his room.

"Didn't mean to wake you up," said Tony, lounging lazily against the door frame.

"I wasn't sleeping. I was meditating. Trying to talk to the Hulk."

"You talk to him? How?"

"I just picture the two of us in a little room together, and sometimes he paints pictures."

"Uh huh. Of what? Stuff being smashed?"

"Sometimes. He painted Nathan just now. He's very . . . attached to him. I don't suppose you could talk him into another weekend visit?"

"Well . . ." Tony pretended to be considering it, when Bruce knew he loved the kid. "I think I could manage that. To keep Hulk happy."

"Always a good idea."

And from deep within, he thought he could hear a grunt of satisfaction. Yes, Hulk was happy.

* * *

2. Valentine Surprises

_4:00 PM, Stark Tower_

Tonight was the night. This very evening, over dinner, Tony Stark was going to propose to Miss Virginia Potts, and everything had to be perfect.

He called the restaurant to check on the reservation. Yes, of course, the _maitre d' _told him, six-thirty. Do not be late! He had no intention of being late. In fact, he was ready to go now, and it was only four o'clock.

Wardrobe check! Hair combed. Tie tied. Zipper zipped. Shoes neatly polished. Ring . . . not in his pocket.

Where the hell was the ring?

"Okay," he said out loud, "where did I have it last? I put it on the dresser when I took my shower . . . then I put it on the bed . . . what next?"

He searched the entire bedroom, looking on, under, and behind every piece of furniture, including the bed. No ring. He looked in the bathroom, just in case he had brought it in with him by accident. Unless it had been flushed down the toilet, it wasn't there.

"I didn't flush it, did I?"

Finally, in desperation, he turned to a higher power. "JARVIS, you don't happen to know what I did with a small pink box, about yea big?" He marked off a small square with his fingers.

"Yes, sir," the smoothly-accented voice said. "The box you describe is on the coffee table."

"How did it get there?"

"I believe you put it there when you went into the kitchen to check on the flowers."

"Oh. Right. Thanks, JARVIS." Now that he thought about it, he did remember putting it down to pick up the phone to double-check the flower delivery. The flowers were due at five o'clock, Pepper would be arriving at five-thirty, and he had to have that ring in his pocket when they departed.

Sure enough, there it was on the coffee table, right where JARVIS had said it was. If he were human, Tony would have given him a raise, but being cybernetic, he would have to settle for an upgrade. Tomorrow. No time right now.

He scooped up the box and put it in his suit coat pocket, smiling to himself. Mentally he rehearsed again what he planned to say to her, at just the right moment. It had to be just right, and it would be. Because he couldn't imagine the rest of his life without her.

Four twenty-one. What was he going to do now?

Sometimes being ready ahead of time just meant sitting around doing nothing for hours.

Might as well catch up on his e-mail. He opened a window and got lost in the Internet.

* * *

_4:37 PM_

_Stark Tower, Suite 7907B_

"_Oh, my God, how did you know?" _the image of Jane Foster on the computer screen asked. _"It's perfect! I've been wanting that book since it came out! I don't remember telling you about it. So how did you know?"_

Thor just grinned and refused to divulge his secrets. "I am glad that you like it, Jane. Was it a proper gift for the Day of Valentines?"

"_It's great! And it got here right on time, too. You even included a little love note. I liked that."_

"I have learned the Amazon Dotcom! It is easy, is it not?"

Behind him, Loki rolled his eyes and asked, "Is it my turn yet?"

"Patience, brother. You will have your chance soon."

"You've been on that thing all day. I expect you're pretty pleased with yourself."

"Hold your tongue for now, Loki. I will tell you when you can use this device."

"_Maybe you should get separate computers," _Darcy suggested from out of camera range. _"I haven't broken in my new laptop yet. I'm thinking of calling it either Marvin, like the Paranoid Android, or Holly, like in _Red Dwarf. _Which do you like better?"_

Thor blinked in confusion. "I am not familiar with these . . . persons. You should give it a bold and heroic name."

"_Maybe I'll call it Malcolm, then, after Captain Reynolds."_

Again, the gods failed to understand the reference. "Did you receive my gift to you?" Loki asked Darcy.

"_Yeah, it's . . . nice. I've never had a Valkyrie helmet before. Where did you get it?"_

"I Googled it," he said proudly. "There was a matching breastplate, but I didn't know your size."

"_No, that's okay. Just the helmet is fine. I'll send you a picture of me wearing it. Or I'll put it on Facebook. You have a Facebook account, right?"_

"I am . . . not allowed."

"_Oh. Well, whatever. I can e-mail it to you. You __**do**__ have e-mail, right?"_

Thor stood by during this exchange, his arms crossed over his chest, his face set as if in stone. It was just like Loki to hijack his conversation, not by force but by being clever enough to slip in at just the right moment. He wondered when it would be **his **turn again.

* * *

_4:51 PM_

_Stark Tower, suite 7805_

Steve Rogers was also on a call, this one to London.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said to the only woman he had ever loved.

"_Happy Valentine's Day, Steven."_

"I didn't wake you, did I? I know you sometimes go to bed early—"

"_Not this early," _she chuckled. _"The photographs were lovely. Wherever did you find them?"_

"Some of them, from the National Archives. Some of them I found on eBay. And some, believe it or not, were in Tony's attic. I didn't realize he had pictures of you and his father."

"_Howard was . . . quite a man. I almost married him, you know. He could be very sweet. But also, very dedicated to his work. And in the end, I didn't have the patience to put up with him."_

"You've got loads of patience. You waited all this time for me."

"_But I didn't. I waited for a few years, and then I got on with my life. I couldn't put off living forever."_

"And it would be unfair of me to expect you to. I get it. So when can I come see you?"

She sighed. _"We've talked about this, Steve. I simply don't have the time right now. And I know you're busy with your . . . work."_

"Not at the moment."

"_There's still snow on the ground in New York. There might be a storm, and the airports would close down."_

"How do you know there's snow here?"

"_I have a computer. They do wonderful things, you know. One of them is being able to see the weather in other countries."_

"Right. I'm learning how to use the computer. It's easy, once you know how."

"_Most things are, love."_

* * *

_5:15 PM_

_Stark Tower, penthouse_

Pepper was right on time. As usual. Tony met her at the elevator, handing her the flowers which had just been delivered.

"I thought we'd take the Audi tonight," he said to her. "Something a little less flashy than we usually show up in."

"You, wanting not to attract attention? Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, smiling. "Tonight's all about you. That is why, tonight, we will be dining in _Le Fantastique_."

She gasped. "That fancy new restaurant that I've been wanting to see the inside of for **months**? You really got us reservations?"

"No, I thought we'd stand outside and look miserable until they took pity on us and let us in. Yes, of course I have reservations! And because tonight is so special, I haven't even tipped off the press that we'll be there."

"Not funny, Tony. So what time do we have to be there?"

"Seven. Which gives us time to go and have drinks at Nightlight first. If that's okay with you?"

"Are you kidding?" She threw her arms around him. "I don't care what they say about you, Tony Stark. You really are a romantic at heart."

"Shall we go, then?"

"Why not?" He took her arm and started to accompany her back to the elevator.

"Wait a minute!" she said suddenly. "Before we go, let me just . . . powder my nose."

"You can just say you're going to the bathroom. I'm not offended."

And it was a good thing she did, too. On her way back, she happened to glance down and spot that little pink box she had seen before, on the kitchen counter. Tony must have put it down and not realized it. She scooped it up, tucked it in her bag, and thought about whether or not to tell him about it.

Not right away. Clearly he had everything planned out, and she didn't want to interfere with his plan.

Besides, she wanted to see his face when he realized he didn't have the ring. It was a bit mean, but it would be funny.

* * *

_5:23 PM_

_Stark Tower, suite 8102_

Bed rest was still boring, but at least now Bruce was strong enough to sit up and work on his laptop. He had a brief chat with Nathan via Facebook, before the boy said he had to go and give Riley her gift.

**Riley, huh? Somebody special?**

_I hope so. I mean, she's been so down since Ben dumped her at the Valentine dance. I want her to feel better._

**Good for you. Just remember: sometimes all you have to do is listen. Let her take the lead. Just relax and go with the flow. **

_Okay, whatever that means. Gotta go. Love you, Dad._

**Love you, kiddo.**

Funny how he had never heard those words from his own father, and he never let a day go by without saying them, in some form, to his son. Or maybe it wasn't so funny. He-

"Excuse me, sir," the synthesized voice of JARVIS interrupted him. "You have a visitor."

"Really? Who?"

"The young lady did not leave her name."

"Young lady? Send her up, by all means."

Who would be visiting him? And not want to leave her name? He couldn't think of anyone it might be . . .

And then the doorknob rattled. "Come in," he shouted, before he realized that it was locked. "Hold on." He got up, crossed the room slowly, and unlocked the door from the inside. Then he opened the door.

"Surprise," said Betty Ross, standing there with a basket of goodies in her hand.

Bruce's jaw dropped. When he found himself able to speak again, he stammered, "B-betty! I didn't know you were in New York! It's been . . . five years?"

"About that," she said. "Can I come in?"

"What? Oh, sure! Come on in. Don't mind me, I'm still supposed to be on bed rest. Picked up a virus in Africa—I'm fine now," he hastened to reassure her.

"Yeah, I heard about your, um, problem. I'm consulting at one of SHIELD's labs right now. Is it true you were rescued by a ten-year-old kid?"

"Yes, and . . ." He sighed. He would have to tell her sooner or later, and sooner was better than later. "The almost-ten-year-old is my son."

She gave him an odd look. "Your son? How? I mean, how do you have a son that old that I don't know about?"

"I didn't know about him either, until a few years ago. You remember Micky Sandoval?"

"The one who had a thing for you?"

"She did not have a thing for me! Okay, maybe she did. The point is, she . . . got hold of my DNA somehow, and she and Jack Franklin continued Project Minotaur on their own. She was the carrier, as well as the egg donor. And, well . . . that's him." He showed her a recent photo of Nathan, taken at his school.

"I can't exactly see the resemblance," she said, half-joking.

"He was created to be a weapon. Strength of a bear, cunning of a snake, toughness of a goat . . . he has my eyes, though. Jack did that just to get in his digs at me. Anyway, he's an incredible kid. He's doing college-level work at his age."

"Clearly he got his brains from you."

"Well, Micky was no slouch, either. It's just too bad that she fell in with the wrong crowd. Jack twisted her mind like a pretzel."

"So the kid works for SHIELD?"

"No, no, this was a one-time thing. They just brought him in to calm me down. He . . . he sings, slow songs—I don't know if you remember the kind of stuff Micky listened to?"

"You mean Retro Radio? And not even good retro, either."

"Oh, I don't know. It works. They say it's the sound of his voice that does it, but the music helps. Um, can I get you anything? Something to drink? I'm not supposed to be up, but I can have one of the robots bring you something . . ."

"Robots?"

"Tony's big on robots."

"No, thanks, I'm fine. I brought this for you, actually." She set the basket down and began unpacking it. "From that gourmet shop you like. Didn't know they had a branch here, did you?"

"Somehow I'm not surprised. You always seem to get what you want."

"Happy Valentine's Day," she said, laying a package of peanut-butter-filled chocolate hearts on the bed beside him. Peanut butter was one of his weaknesses, and she knew it.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he smiled. "Sorry I don't have anything for you."

"That's okay. You will next year. You can make up for it then."

"Next year? So you're not . . . with someone?"

"Not anymore." At his questioning look, she explained, "I was married, but I got divorced last year. Long story."

"Well, as long as you're happy now."

"I am. And you?"

"There's nobody in my life. Except Nathan. That's his name. And my teammates, who are like family. I've never been good at relationships . . ."

"That's okay," she said. "Neither have I."

* * *

_5:45 PM _

_Xavier Institute for Gifted Students_

Riley wasn't in her room. Her roommate, Julia, told Nathan that she was in the lounge, watching TV.

"By herself?" he asked.

"That's what she wanted."

"That's not right. She shouldn't be alone. Not on Valentine's Day."

"Tell that scumbag Ben that. I can't believe he dumped her at the dance. What cheek! What utter bloody cheek!" Originally from northern England, Julia would occasionally lapse into her native accent when she was upset or stressed.

"I'll go find her, then. Oh, I have a card for you." He handed over the card with Julia's name on it.

"You got me a card?"

"I have one for everyone. But I have something special for Riley. I hope she likes it."

"I don't know if she's in a mood for gifts, but you can try. And if you happen to see Ben, punch him in the gob for me."

Nathan blinked. "I—I don't think I'm supposed to do that . . ."

"It means the mouth, love. But on second thought, don't do anything stupid. The size you are, you'll kill him."

Nathan didn't know what to say to that, so he just went to the lounge to find Riley.

She was watching a _Supernatural_ rerun, and the moment he entered the room, Nathan felt an intense sadness. He wasn't really sure why until he realized that it was coming from Riley. Her power was an unusual one: she could project her emotions to other people, which could be useful in a battle situation (making an enemy feel her fear, for example) but in everyday life often got in the way. He understood now why she'd chosen to be alone.

"Riley?"

She sighed deeply. "Do you think Dean would dump a girl at a dance? Just like that, without any warning at all?"

"I doubt it. He's a player, but he's not that much of a jerk."

"I mean, who does that? It's as bad as breaking up via text message."

"He did that, too?"

A commercial came on, and she finally tore herself away from the TV. "No, that would require him actually answering my text messages. Of which, I've sent about fifty. Don't tell me he's not getting them."

"I wouldn't know."

"What's that?" she asked, seeing the wrapped package in his arms.

"It's, um, it's a Valentine's Day present. For you. If you want it."

"You didn't have to get me anything."

"I wanted to."

"Well, sit down and let's have a look at it."

"I can't sit on this couch. It's not strong enough."

"Sure it is. Come on." She patted the cushion beside her, and Nathan sat. The couch did creak when he settled his nearly three-hundred-pound bulk into it, but there wasn't the groaning and snapping of wood that meant it was about to collapse. He took that as a good sign.

"I don't have anything for you, though," Riley said.

"That's okay. I hope you like this." He handed it over, and she unwrapped it carefully, lifting up the tape on one end and working her way around. "Oh, it's a bear! How cute! And in a little mug, too!"

"He plays music, too." Nathan pressed the bear's middle, and the tune played.

"Oh, I love Billy Joel! How did you know? It was just what I needed!" She threw her arms around him (or at least as far as they would go), and he felt waves of joy radiating from her. He had to remember to send Uncle Tony a thank-you note.

* * *

_6:25 PM_

_Nightlight Club_

"I suppose we should get to the restaurant before they give our table away," Tony said. "I'll go bring the car around."

Pepper was proud of him. He'd only had two drinks (so far), and he was being a perfect gentleman. If she hadn't known what he was up to, she'd be suspicious right now. This was shaping up to be the best night of her life.

She double-checked that the ring was still in her purse as soon as he was out the door. When they sat down to dinner, she'd come clean to him, and not drag out the moment too much. But she'd let him ask her properly, and of course, she'd say yes.

She stood on the front sidewalk, watching the cars zoom by, and waiting, when Tony walked up to her. Walked.

"I can't find the car," he said. "I think it's been stolen."

"What?"

"The car is gone."

"Did you give it to the valet?"

"No, I parked it myself. Remember? I let you out here, and I went around to find a space. Now where the hell did I put it?"

"How could you lose the car? Maybe you didn't park it where you think you did." This had happened once before. He'd parked his old Nissan in the side lot at the office, thought he'd parked in the back lot, actually called the police to report the car stolen, and almost got arrested when he insisted that someone had to have moved it, because there was no way he could have parked it there and forgotten about it.

"No, I'll show you." He led her around the building to the public lot, which was completely full. "Do you see a silver Audi anywhere here? Anywhere?"

"I see a lot of silver cars. Did you check the other lot?"

"No! I know I parked it over here! See that building over there? I was right in line with the ground floor windows. I know it."

"I just think we should go check the other lot before we report it stolen," she suggested, but Tony wasn't listening. He never did, when he was so sure he was right.

"I've looked all over this lot, and the car is just not here! Why would someone steal my car?"

"We don't know that it's stolen yet. Can we please go check the other lot and see if it's there first?"

"We don't have time! We'll call a taxi, and come back for the car later. Let's face it, it's gone."

Pepper gave up trying to argue with him. She didn't feel right leaving the car there, but trying to change Tony's mind was like herding cats uphill in the rain. "All right," she said. "Let's get to the restaurant before they give our table away. We've still got time, right? Seven o'clock?"

"I think so. It might have been seven-thirty. So we'll be early; so much the better. Taxi!" He waved his arm in the air, but four cabs drove past without stopping, having already been engaged. Luckily, the fifth one was free.

Tony gave the driver _Le Fantastique_'s address, and they pulled away from the curb. As they went around the corner, he happened to glance towards Nightlight's side parking lot. The last car in the front row was a silver Audi. **His **silver Audi.

"Hold on! Stop for a second!" The cab pulled over, and he got out and confirmed that this was indeed his car. He came back, paid the driver an exorbitant amount for such a short trip, and escorted Pepper to the car.

"Why didn't you tell me the car was over here?" he demanded.

She knew better than to tell him that she had done just that, at least five times. "I don't know. I guess it just didn't occur to me."

"I hope we get to the restaurant in time. At least we're on the right track now. Nothing else can go wrong."

* * *

_11:32 PM (local time)_

_Belfast, Northern Ireland_

They looked like any other couple in the pub, but the truth was, they were there to wait for their target. He was known to frequent this particular neighborhood watering hole, and he should be coming through the door any moment now.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Clint said, sliding a small red box across the table.

Natasha's eyes were wide. "I completely forgot. Can I make it up to you when we get home?"

"Sure. Open that first."

"What is it?"

"Open it and find out."

"You know I hate surprises."

"You'll like this one. Open it."

"Fine." She opened it, just as their drinks arrived. Under the frilly pink paper was a small white box.

_No . . . it can't be. We always agreed, no strings. No connections. No commitments. Has he changed his mind?_

She opened the box. Inside, sitting on a bed of soft cotton, was an enamel brooch of a bird in her nest. "Oh, it's beautiful! I thought . . ." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"What?" he asked. "You thought what?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"No, come on, tell me. What did you think? That it was a ring?"

"Well . . . yeah."

"Even though we agreed a long time ago that we can't make that sort of commitment to each other, because of . . . our jobs?"

"I thought you might have reconsidered."

"You know me better than that, sweet cakes." Then his eyes shifted to something behind her. "No, don't turn around. Our man just walked in."

"Time to go to work." She tucked the brooch into her pocket, hoping it wouldn't get damaged in the inevitable fight. It really was better than a ring.

* * *

_7:02 PM_

_Le Fantastique_

"What do you mean, you don't have a table for us?" Tony stared down the tiny, cowering _maitre d'_. "I called three times to secure the reservations!"

"Yes, sir, but you see, the reservation was for six-thirty, and we only hold the table for fifteen minutes before we have to give it to the next one on the list . . ."

"Six-thirty?" Pepper looked at Tony in confusion. "I thought you said it was at seven!"

"I thought it was seven. You sure you're looking at the right day?"

"Sir, I am looking at today's reservation list. Here is your name, and as you can see, the time listed in the opposite column is six-thirty PM. We waited as long as we could, but we have a very long waiting list for tables."

"Can you get us on the list, then?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid it will be at least a forty-minute wait—"

"That's fine. We'll be in the bar." Tony hung around just long enough to make sure that their names were added to the waiting list, and then he strode off in the direction of the bar. After a moment, and a hasty apology, Pepper followed him.

She found him sitting at a table, his head in his hands. "Damn it! How could I have been so stupid? First I lose the car, then I lose the reservation! What's next?"

Now was the time to brighten his evening a bit. "Well," she said, "at least you didn't lose this." And she took the small pink box out of her bag and put it on the table in front of him.

He stared at it, and then up at her. "Where . . . where did you find this?"

"You left it on the kitchen counter, right before we left. I had a feeling you might need it."

"Did you open it?"

"No. I didn't want to deprive you of your big moment. So . . . do you want to wait until we're seated for dinner, or should we not wait any longer?"

He thought about it for a minute before he made his decision. "Well, since it's not a surprise anymore . . . Pepper, you mean more to me than anything in the world. You've always been there for me, putting up with my bullshit when no one else would, because you knew that wasn't really me. I don't know what I'd do without you, and I hope I never have to find out." He opened the box, exposing the ring in all its brilliance. "Will you marry me?"

She didn't even hesitate. "Yes! Of course I will. What took you so long?"

* * *

_12:45 AM_

_Stark Tower_

"Come up with me?" Tony asked, as he and Pepper entered the building. Her apartment was a few floors below his, but tonight, he wanted her to stay with him.

"Are we not done celebrating, then?" she asked, leaning into him. She'd had a bit to drink herself that evening, and was not too steady on her feet at the moment.

"I was hoping we'd get back in time to give the guys the news, but I guess they've all gone to bed. We should follow suit."

"If you say so."

So it was spur-of-the-moment. So she didn't have even a toothbrush at his place. They had a good thing going, and why spoil it now?

"I wonder what they've been up to while we were out?" he mused. "Anything good? Blackmail-able?"

"You would think of that," she said. The elevator came, and they got on.

"Love in an elevator . . ." Tony sang under his breath. Pepper looked at him, mischief shining in her eyes.

"We've got time," she said.

When they reached the penthouse level and the doors opened, they straightened their disheveled clothing (zipping and buttoning in a hurry in case anyone was still up) and proceeded to the bedroom to continue in private.

It was glorious.

When they were finished, after Pepper had fallen asleep but Tony was still awake, staring at the ceiling, he wondered if this was how it was going to be every night, once they were married.

He wouldn't mind that at all.

* * *

_7:30 AM_

_Stark Tower, penthouse kitchen_

They broke the news at breakfast the next morning, since everyone was together.

Rather than give them a long, rambling speech, Tony decided to get right to the point. "We're getting married!"

There were congratulations all around; Tony was slapped on the back by Thor so hard that he nearly lost a few teeth. Bruce sent an Instant Message to Nathan; Steve e-mailed Clint, although it was two in the morning in Ireland and they probably wouldn't see it for some time.

"I was thinking September," Tony said, when they asked about dates. "Right around Labor Day. And of course you're all invited. Hell, you'll probably be in the wedding. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go alert the media." He poured himself a cup of coffee and disappeared in the direction of his study.

"He's not serious about the media, is he?" Bruce asked Pepper.

"Honestly? I'm not sure. He probably does have some calls to make. But I wouldn't be surprised if he held a press conference this afternoon. And frankly," she said, caressing the ring on her finger, "I support him one hundred percent."


	5. March

MARCH

1. What's a Comic Con?

"Guess who's going to Comic-Con this summer?" Tony gloated.

"**The** Comic-Con? The big one? Not just some dinky little local comic book expo?" Bruce was jealous.

"**The** Comic-Con. I'm on a panel, actually. Not sure what it's about, but I'm sure they'll tell me. Anyway, you're in luck: I'm making the hotel reservations now, and I've got a suite, which means I can take up to three people. You in?"

"Are you kidding? Wait, do I have to pay my own airfare?"

"I think we can afford it. Who else wants to go? Cupid?"

"When is it?" Clint asked.

"End of July."

"I don't know . . . I'll have to check my schedule. I think I might be able to swing it."

"Great! Anyone else? Room for one more."

"I'll pass," said Natasha. "I don't like the way they portray women in comics. The unrealistic anatomy . . . no. Just, no."

"Have you ever gotten a good look at yourself in costume?" Tony asked her.

"No. Why?"

"All I'm saying is that there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of teenage—and older—guys with your Spandex-clad body on their walls. Make of that what you will."

"You're disgusting," she said, smacking him in the shoulder. Not as hard as she could—that would have broken his arm—but hard enough to make her point.

"So that's a no, then?"

She gave him a look.

"Okay. Who else wants to come to Comic-Con? We've got room for at least one more. Steve?"

The super-soldier looked a bit uncomfortable. "No, I . . . I couldn't."

"Aw, come on! You'll love it! And they'll love you!"

"July is a busy month for me. I've got the air show, the fireworks at the White House, not to mention visiting the troops overseas. I can't."

"Oh, c'mon, sure you can."

"No, really, I won't have time."

"Okay, fine. Who else wants to go?"

"I'd like to go," Pepper said.

"Well, that's great!"

"Let me finish. I'd **like** to go, but I can't. Someone has to be here to oversee the international launch of the StarkPad2, and since you won't be around, who does that leave?"

"Oh. Right. Well, who's left?"

"I would like to go," Loki said, so softly that at first Tony wasn't sure he'd heard him.

"What was that, Lokester?"

"I said, I would like to go with you, to this comic place. I have actually read some graphic novels, and I find them . . . enjoyable."

"Well, um, okay. You okay with that, Clint?" Tony asked, aware that there were still unresolved issues between the archer and the god who had taken control of him the summer before.

"It's a big place. It's not like we'll be together twenty-four-seven."

"That's true, but still. You'll be sharing a room together."

"Not necessarily," said Bruce. "I could room with Loki. If he doesn't mind my snoring."

"Oh, please. If I can sleep in the same room with Thor's infernal rumbling, I can put up with you for three days." Secretly, Loki was pleased; he much preferred the doctor's company over the assassin's.

"Okay, then. We have a plan. I'll let you know when I have the tickets and arrangements in order."

"Arrangements for what?"

Everyone looked over just as Thor came in. "For something called Comic-Con," Loki explained.

"What is a _comma-con_?

"It's a . . . actually, what **is **it?"

"It's like a big festival, with exhibits of fantasy and sci-fi television, movies, books, and comics. People walk around in costumes." Tony knew that wasn't even half of what Comic-Con was about, but it would do for a start.

"I have a costume," said Thor. "A helmet, anyway. Can I come to this _comma-con_?"

"And what do you know about comics?" Loki demanded.

"I have read some."

"Some? What, one? I know who Stan Lee is. I know who created Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman. I know the names of the three major comics companies, and who controls them."

"And how do you know this, brother?" Thor looked insulted that Loki would question his level of knowledge.

"I know where to look, when the question comes up. I am more qualified to go to Comic-Con than you."

"It is not a question of who is more qualified! Why can we not both go?"

"Because I only have accommodations for four," said Tony. "If you can make your own travel and hotel arrangements, you can go."

"I will do that, then. When is the _comma-con _supposed to take place?"

"July 18th through the 21st."

"Oh." The thunder god's face fell. "That is when Jane will be arriving here. Could I perhaps go to the next one?"

"You know what? There's a smaller con in New Jersey that we can go to, for practice. You can come with us to that."

"Excellent! When is that one?"

"End of May. That will give you time to learn about some of the things we'll be seeing, like _Star Trek_, _Buffy_, and _Doctor Who._"

The two gods both wore identical expressions of puzzlement. "What are these?" Thor asked.

"I think they're television shows," said Loki. "I would like to learn about them."

"Well, I've got some time next week," Tony said. "I could go over the basics with you—with both of you, if you've got time."

"I could help,'' Bruce offered.

"That would be . . . acceptable," Loki said. "I am always willing to learn."

"Um . . . okay," said Tony. "We'll teach you everything you need to know to hold your own with the geekiest of the geeks."

"Geek?" asked Thor.

"Meant in the best possible way, of course. Some of my best friends are geeks."

"What is a geek?"

"The geeks," Tony said, "are the Smart People. The ones who secretly control the world. The people who, when they're confronted with a problem, ask 'Why not?' The dreamers, the innovators, the creative problem solvers."

"So geeks rule the world?" asked Loki.

"I suppose so, yeah."

"And this is a good thing?"

"Well, yeah, it is."

"I'm in, then."

"In what?" Thor was completely confused. "What is this you are in?"

"Never mind." Loki just sighed. Some people weren't capable of understanding true genius. If being a geek, whatever that was, was a way for him to take over the world legally, then that was what he would do. Let the muscle-heads like Thor smash their way through problems. Thinking his way around them was a much better way to do it.

* * *

Interlude: Geek Lessons, part 1

"Why are we here, again?" Loki asked.

"Because," said Tony, "you're with the Smart People now. And as a Smart Person, there are certain things you have to know, in order to be able to talk to other Smart People."

"Right," the god said warily.

"We just want to go over some of the basics," said Bruce. "We'll start right at the beginning." He held up a copy of _The Wrath of Khan. _"This is _Star Trek._" In his other hand, he held a copy of _The Empire Strikes Back_. "And this is _Star Wars_."

"And I have to know the difference?"

"To some people," said Tony, "not knowing the difference is heresy. They will crucify you for a mistake like that."

"I thought no one did that anymore."

"I didn't mean literally! Look, just try and follow along. _Trek_," he said, holding up a pair of pointed ears. "_Wars,_" and he waved around some sort of stuffed ape doll. "_Wars—" _holding up a model spaceship with X-shaped wings. _"Trek_." This time he held up a sleeker ship with twin extensions streaking up and back from the main body of the ship. "Got it?"

"No."

"Do you want to come to Comic-Con with us this summer, or not?"

"Tony, he can't learn an entire lifetime's worth of pop culture in a few months. Not like this, anyway. I say we point him toward some links and let him figure it out for himself."

"I just don't want him to look like an idiot in front of the other geeks."

"I'm still in the room, you know," Loki reminded them.

The two of them looked at each other. "Okay," Tony said, "we'll try a different approach. We'll have a weekly DVD viewing, covering the essential films and TV shows you should know about, and the rest, I'll let you discover on your own time. Your assignment for this week is to research the origin of fanfiction—don't read any! Some of it's good, but most of it's crap."

"What is this fanfiction? I've heard of it, but I'm not sure exactly what it is."

"Look it up. Wikipedia has a fairly good article about it," Bruce began, before Tony cut him off.

"I don't trust Wikipedia. Anyone can go in and edit a page with whatever they want, whether or not the information is truthful."

"What did they do to your page?"

"**Someone**," he said, as if he knew perfectly well who it was, "posted a photo on the page that was **not **authorized!"

"I thought you looked cute in that hat."

"I don't want to look cute!"

"And where do I find this . . . information?" Loki asked.

Tony looked like he didn't want to tell him, but Bruce said, "Wikipedia dot org. Just type what you're looking for into the search box, and the site will do the rest."

Loki nodded. They had showed him how to use the computer, and he had picked up the basics surprisingly fast. He couldn't write his own programs yet, but he was working on it.

"Next week, we'll start with _Trek_. We'll play one episode from each of the major series—I'm sorry, but _Enterprise _blows dead donkeys; I won't voluntarily be in the room with that waste of videotape—and if we have time, one of the better movies. Meaning, the even-numbered ones."

"I still say that breaks down once you get into the _Next Generation _movies," Bruce countered.

"No, it doesn't. Okay, _Generations _wasn't bad, but _Insurrection _was a steaming pile of crap! They milked the cash cow one too many times, in my opinion."

"Cow?" Loki was thoroughly confused.

"Never mind," said Tony. "Watch _Trek_, read the origin of fanfiction—which is connected to _Star Trek_, believe it or not; just Google the term 'Mary Sue' and you'll find out—and we'll continue this next week."

It was all so much to learn. And he was expected to know it all perfectly? Loki felt overwhelmed, but determined. If this was what it took to get past the gates of the magical realm they called Comic-Con, then he would do it. He would study, and read, and learn it all, and when he had learned it, he would proudly wear the title of Geek Supreme, the greatest and most knowledgeable of them all.

And **then** he would take over the world.

* * *

2. Bonding over Green Beer

The team hadn't gone out to a bar as a group since that disaster last summer that they were forbidden to mention or allude to in any way. But once the ground rules had been laid (no karaoke, no table dancing, no swimming in any fountains, and no video records of any kind), they agreed to go out for an evening of drinks and Irish music at a little bar just outside of town.

"It kinda sucks that St. Patrick's Day's a Sunday this year," said Clint. "We won't get to stay out too late."

"We won't be staying out late anyway," Natasha reminded him. "Don't want Fury coming down on our asses again. Everyone may have two drinks, no more."

"Can they be big drinks?" Tony asked.

She gave him a look.

"Okay, okay, two small drinks it is. Fine. I know a place that has live music all night long. We can hang out there. Sound good to you guys?"

"Why can't we go out Saturday night?" Clint asked. "Then we can stay out as late as we want, and drink as much as we want."

"Because hauling your wet, drunk, giggly ass into a limo is not an experience I want to repeat," said Bruce.

"I was not giggling!"

"Yes, you were. At least you're a happy drunk."

"Nobody's getting drunk!" Natasha insisted.

"But that's half the fun of St. Patrick's Day!" said Tony. "The other half is painting random parts of your body-and if you're lucky, someone else's body-green. No offense, Beeb."

"We won't be doing any of that, either!"

"Fine, Ms. Killjoy. We'll just sit around and not drink and talk about our feelings. That okay with you?"

"You're such a jerk, Stark."

"But I'm the jerk who's paying for your two tiny drinks, so be nice to me."

Her very angry response was in Russian, a language he vowed that if he could ever find the time, he was going to learn. It was either that or invent a real-life Babelfish.

"Anyone seen Steve?" he asked. "We should invite him along, even if he doesn't drink. Anymore, I mean."

"I think he's down in the gym," said Clint. "He's been there for a while, though, so maybe he's almost finished. You know how he hates to be disturbed in the middle of a workout."

"You may be right. I'll catch him later. What about Thor and Loki?"

"What about us?" As luck would have it, they were just coming in the door.

"Where have you been?"

"Shopping!" Thor put down a few of the many plastic bags that weighed him down. "We have pizza rolls and nacho chips, but I was not able to secure the beer."

"That's okay, I'll have it delivered."

"What's this for?" asked Natasha suspiciously.

"We're having Guys' Night this Saturday. Watching action flicks and eating junk food. You and Pepper can go out shopping or have your nails done or whatever."

"I happen to like action movies. Why is it guys only?"

"Well . . . I don't know. Just because. Back me up here, guys," he said, but the others seemed to have their attention focused everywhere else but on him. "Okay, fine! You can come. Just don't be girly."

She gave him a look.

"Whatever! I'll go order the beer. Oh, guys," he said to Thor and Loki, "are you coming out with us on St. Patrick's Day?"

"I don't know what that is," said Loki, while Thor looked puzzled.

"Basically it's a holiday honoring Irish heritage. But you don't have to be Irish to celebrate. Just wear green and drink a lot."

"I think there's a bit more to it than that," said Bruce. "There's a parade in the afternoon. It's a week from this Sunday."

"We get to march in a parade?" Now Thor was excited.

"No, no, we're not **in** the parade-"

"Why not?" Tony said flippantly. "We're heroes! Why can't we crash their parade?"

"Because Fury will kill us," Natasha reminded him.

"He won't know! We won't tell him!"

"I think if we march down Fifth Avenue," said Bruce, "he's bound to notice. Or someone will, who will tell him."

"Fine," Tony mock-pouted. "We won't crash, then. We'll just watch the parade. That okay with you?"

"We won't get in trouble that way. Though knowing you, you'll find some other way to get us in trouble."

"Moi?" Tony put both hands over his arc reactor.

"It's what you're good at."

"It's not the only thing I'm good at."

"Are we still having Guy Night?" Thor demanded.

"Yes, but . . . is it still Guys' Night if there's a woman present?"

"Just think of me as one of the guys," Natasha said. "I can drink beer and make bodily noises with the best of them."

"That's disgusting," said Loki. "I think I'll spend my time doing something more productive. Like matching socks."

"Oh, come now, brother! You must come with us and bond over the movies of action! It is important for building the team!"

"Do you even know what that means?"

"That is not important! I insist that you must be there!"

"Fine!" the younger god conceded. "But I refuse to have a good time!"

Tony didn't get a chance to tell Steve about the new developments until the next morning, when he ventured out of his bedroom at the ungodly hour of seven a. m. and found the super-soldier seated at the counter, finishing up a bowl of cereal.

"Oh, hey," he said. "Missed you last night."

"Yeah, well, after I worked out, I took a shower and then just went to bed. Why, what did I miss?"

"Brace yourself: Guys' Night is about to be invaded by a woman."

He stopped with the spoon halfway to his mouth and turned to look at Tony. "What woman?"

"Tasha."

"Why? Doesn't she understand that Guys' Night is sacred? It's our time to be ourselves, and we can't do that with a woman present!"

"She said to just treat her like one of the guys."

"But . . . but . . . she's a woman!"

"She's a woman who knows twenty-seven different ways to kill you using common household objects. It's a little hard to say no to someone like that."

"So what are we supposed to do? We can't have Guys' Night with a woman in the room! That's the whole point of having Guys' Night in the first place!"

"We can still have Guys' Night. We'll just have to . . . tone it down a bit."

Steve narrowed his eyes. "In what way?"

"Just . . . we can still be ourselves, just not so much ourselves, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

"Should I call the whole thing off, then?"

Sigh. "No, I suppose I can handle having a woman at Guys' Night. We're still watching movies, right?"

"Yep. _The Terminator, The Expendables, _and _Transformers_. Lots of stuff going boom."

"And this is a good thing?"

"It's mostly the bad guys going boom. I have to warn you, though: there's a lot of gunfire in these movies, so if you're gonna have war flashbacks, warn us ahead of time, so we can set up the video camera." At Steve's stricken face, he added, "I'm kidding. I don't even have a video camera anymore."

"I can handle a little gunfire. I think."

"If you need us to stop the movie and put on _The Sound of Music _or something, just let us know."

Guys' Night was a disaster, but it wasn't because there was a woman present.

For one thing, Loki brought a book. He sat in the farthest corner, calmly turning pages while explosions and gunfire erupted from the speakers all around the room.

"What are you doing?" Tony demanded.

The god looked up. "I agreed to be present," he said. "I never said that I would participate in this nonsense."

"Give me that!" He snatched the book away and sat on it. "You're supposed to be bonding with us. You can't bond if you're off doing your own thing. Now watch the movie."

"But I don't even like these kinds of movies."

"Nonsense, brother!" Thor boomed. "They are manly movies, full of manly men being manly! Be a man and at least watch them!"

"Do you have any idea," Loki said, "how ridiculous you sound right now?"

"Come on," said Tony, "be a sport. Look, we're all here. We want you to feel like part of the team. It's not good for you to lock yourself away in your room all the time. Have some nachos."

"I hate nachos."

"Then have some cheese puffs."

"Is there any real **food** here?"

"We have cheese and crackers," Natasha offered, but the god shook his head.

"I don't see the point of all this! How is this supposed to build the team? We're not doing anything! How does sitting around watching movies bond us?"

"It's a shared experience," said Clint. "We're spending time together. We're reaching out to you, so stop acting like a spoiled brat and sit down and watch the damn movie already!"

Loki stood up and glowered down at the archer. It was easy to forget how big he was, since he spent most of his time with Thor, but the younger god was easily a head taller than most of the men in the room. "Is this what you think of me, then? A spoiled brat?"

"Look, I didn't mean—"

"Then don't open your insipid mouth! I want my book back, and I am going to my room! If what it takes to be part of this team is to sit here and be insulted, then I refuse!"

"Loki, please . . . I'm sorry, okay? All I meant was that we want you to feel like you belong. I'm sorry if you took that as an insult. The truth is, you're one of the smartest people I know, and when you're in a good mood, you're a really funny guy. But lately, you haven't been in a good mood too often. Why is that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Loki said bitterly. "Maybe it's because the people I thought of as my family were never my blood kin. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I have never had a place to belong, not here, not in any of the nine realms. Or maybe it's because I'm forced to share living arrangements with those who have never forgiven me for actions that I carried out under duress, and after centuries of torture! I don't know, what do you think?"

"See, this is what I'm talking about! What's with the attitude? We're just trying to help you!"

Loki turned away, but before he did, he said just one word: "Why?" Then he snatched up his book and stormed out of the room. Thor shot Clint a poisonous look before he went after his brother, and the others were left alone in a sudden, awkward silence, broken only by the sounds of the movie.

No one wanted to be the first to speak. They sat and crunched nachos and cheese puffs while avoiding each other's eyes. This was not the way Guys' Night was supposed to go.

They ended this farce after one movie, and all went in separate directions. Breakfast the next morning was equally awkward. And for the next two days, they all found separate pursuits to keep them away from each other. When they had to speak to each other, they spoke in monosyllables.

It was ridiculous, Natasha knew. Why did they have to be like this?

Well, if no one else was going to step up and make things right, she would have to. She went around leaving notes on every door that said simply HOUSE MEETING 7:00 PM **MANDATORY**! And hoped that no one would try to weasel out of it or ask what "mandatory" meant.

It occurred to her as dinner time approached that she had forgotten to put the location of the meeting in her notes. The living room would be good enough, she decided. "JARVIS," she said, "please inform everyone that the house meeting is in the living room upstairs. And if they ask, explain to them what 'mandatory' means. Tell them they have no excuses."

"Yes, Miss Romanov."

She should have thought of that before, instead of wasting paper putting up all those notes. Oh well, too late now. She sat back and waited to see what sort of inventive excuses those guys came up with.

But to her surprise, they all showed up, on time, and without argument, although once they sat down, they wouldn't look at each other. This was ridiculous.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you all here," she began.

Tony looked at her in surprise. "You? I thought it was Pepper who called this meeting. She thinks I'm being an idiot."

"She's not even here."

"She always thinks I'm being an idiot."

"Well, this meeting isn't about name-calling or who's at fault for this situation. The point is, we're a team. We're supposed to get along with each other. So stop this nonsense and start speaking to each other again. The biggest slice of pizza goes to the first one who steps up and apologizes."

There was a long silence as everyone waited for someone else to be the first one to speak. Just as Natasha was about to say something about that, Steve cleared his throat.

"I think she's right," he said. "We've been acting like jerks for the past three days, and at this point, I don't even know why. So I'm sorry for not stepping up and doing something about this before now. I'm the team leader; I should have said something to everyone, but I didn't know what to do. So I apologize for my indecisiveness."

"You didn't do anything wrong," said Bruce. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure what happened, either, but if I said or did anything wrong, I'm sorry. I try to stay out of these things."

"I think we all know who's at fault here," said Tony, looking across the room.

Clint looked shocked. "I was trying to help!"

"Great job you did of it."

"Guys," Natasha said, steel in her voice. "This isn't helping. Angry words only breed more anger. Just let it go and let's talk about this."

"None of this would have happened," Loki said, so softly that it almost went unheard, "if you hadn't forced me to be part of your movie night. I told you several times that I wasn't interested; why could you not accept that?"

"All you had to do," said Tony, "was sit there and watch movies! Why is that so hard for you?"

"Why is it so hard for **you **to understand that sometimes I prefer quiet, solitary pursuits? Did it even occur to you to ask what I was reading?"

"Um, no. So, what were you reading?"

The god sighed. "_Howard Stark: The Man and His Vision_. I thought perhaps if I understood where you came from, that I could get to know you better."

Tony found himself oddly touched by the gesture. "You want to—to know me?"

"I find you fascinating. I also find you irritating, but mostly fascinating. You are the most powerful mind in all of Midgard, and I respect that. Besides, I can read and watch a movie at the same time. It is called multi-tasking, is it not?"

"Yeah, I do it all the time. And here I thought you were just being difficult."

"Well, that too."

"May I say something?" Thor interrupted. They all turned to him. "I have shown great restraint up until this point, but I can be silent no longer! My brother has been wronged, and I demand that justice be done! Agent Barton, you must apologize for insulting him!"

Clint had been sitting sullenly by himself until his name was mentioned, at which point he stopped examining his hands in minute detail and looked up. "I thought I did already."

"I mean a true apology! You must make things right between the two of you, or your lady will disembowel us all!"

"She wouldn't do that—" Clint began, but then he looked over at Natasha and saw her giving him a look that said _Yes, she would. _"Okay, all right. I'm sorry for what I said. You're not a spoiled brat. Okay?"

"I suppose." Loki shrugged. "I know we will never be friends, but we are teammates. I forgive you for your ill-chosen words. Now may I return to my room?"

"Just a minute," said Tony. "Would you like to come out with us on Sunday night?"

"Out where?"

"We're going out for St. Patrick's Day. I told you about this, didn't I? Well, now I'm officially inviting you. And I promise not to be terribly insulted if you decide not to come. So what do you say?"

"What will we be doing?"

"There's this little place that has live music. I figured we could just hang out, have a couple of drinks—two tiny drinks—and bond. Not very exciting, I know, and you can't bring your book. Even if I'm in it."

"Hmm. Will there be tales of great and glorious deeds?"

"Maybe."

"I suppose I could take a few hours out of my busy schedule to pass the time with you. How should I dress?"

Tony blinked. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes. I am coming with you. What should I wear?"

"Your favorite color." The billionaire grinned. "Everyone will be in green. You'll feel right at home."

"What is the significance of wearing green?"

"Google it. I don't have time to explain. And . . . thanks for coming with us. I'm looking forward to an interesting evening."

"Just as long as nothing explodes."

" . . . face-first, right into the lake! Luckily it was a dry summer, and it wasn't that deep."

They all laughed. Loki had been telling stories about his and Thor's boyhood for almost an hour now, and he was quite a storyteller.

"Tell me, friend Tony," said Thor, "how do they turn the beer green? What magic is this?"

"No magic. Just food coloring. It's completely safe, otherwise they couldn't sell it for human consumption."

"Ah, I see! It is a trick!"

"Not exactly. I mean, everyone knows they do it. It's not exactly a secret."

"There's a guy over there," Bruce said, "in a Hulk mask. I don't know how to feel about that."

"Just ignore him," said Natasha. "What are the odds that he came to this specific bar, on this particular evening, with the sole purpose of harassing you? Besides, we're supposed to be keeping a low profile here."

"Oh, my God," said a voice behind them. "You're Captain America, aren't you?"

Tony would have told the kid to buzz off, but Steve said, "Yes. Yes, I am."

"See, Dave? Told ya! Um, my name's Kevin. I'm with the band. You don't mind if I take a picture, do you? I promise I won't put it on Facebook."

Steve looked around at the others, who nodded. "Okay," he said, "but just one."

"Great! I'll go get my phone. Don't go away!" Kevin turned and pushed his way through the mass of bodies back toward the area where the band was set up.

"Do you think he wants just me," Steve asked, "or all of us?"

"Hard to say, really," said Clint. "If he asks, I'll take the picture for him. He doesn't know who I am."

"Don't be so sure," said Tony. "We were all on TV during the big battle. I've seen snips of the coverage on YouTube."

"We were on YouTube? Were there close-ups?"

"Don't worry, Legolas, your hair looked fine."

Kevin came back, iPhone in hand. "Okay, David's gonna take the picture, if you all want to scrunch together."

"All of us?" Steve asked.

"Well, sure. You're a team, aren't you? All for one and one for all?"

"We're supposed to be incognito," Natasha reminded them.

"I won't show anyone but my closest friends. After I leave here, so you won't be mobbed on your way out. Oh, here's Dave. Everybody get up here and stand together. Tall people in the back."

"That means you, Goldilocks," Tony said. "Hey, Rudolph? You with us, or what?"

But Loki was staring down at his SHIELD-issue phone in fascination. "Did you know that this device has Google? I just found it."

"Fine. Play with it later. Come get in the picture already!"

"Picture?" Loki looked around in confusion. "What picture?"

"This nice young man is gonna take a picture of all of us. Of the team. And you're part of the team, so get over here!"

Loki sat frozen in his seat, unable to comply. No one had said there would be pictures. What if he was recognized? Worse, what if someone who had been personally hurt last summer decided to hunt him down and take their vengeance? What could he do?

What he had done all along, he realized, every time he left the safety of the tower: use his magic to disguise his face, so that no one would know him.

But could it fool a camera's eye?

"Dude! Come on!" Tony all but grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to where the rest of the team was assembled, huddled together for the picture. "We're not doing this without you!"

"Why?"

"Because . . . you're one of us. We want you to be part of the team. All you have to do is pose for five seconds, and then you can get back to what you were doing."

"Oh, all right." Loki stood next to his brother in the back row, and as the camera clicked (there was no flash), he realized that he had forgotten to cast the illusion spell. But it didn't matter. He was part of a team now, and they would protect him.

As long as he did his part.


	6. April, pt 1

1. Yin and Yang

Bruce hadn't expected to find Loki up on the roof in the middle of a storm, but there he was, just sitting there, getting soaked.

"Come on in!" he called out. "It's raining out here!"

"I know."

"You're getting drenched."

"It's only water." He hadn't looked up at all.

Bruce came over and sat down beside him. "What happened?" he asked. "You were getting along so well. What's got you down?"

Finally the god looked up. There was moisture running down his face, but Bruce wasn't sure if it was rainwater or tears. "How do you do it? How do you live knowing that there's a monster inside you? That your dark side is always waiting for the right moment, to erupt and destroy everything?"

"Can't go home yet, huh?"

"Odin says it is . . . too soon. He can return my powers to me, but he can't . . . erase everyone's memories. They still hate me, and they always will."

"Always is a long time. They'll forgive you."

"You are thinking in human terms. The entire span of your life is as the blink of an eye to my kind. Some of them have hated me for millennia. Can you even begin to understand that?"

"Yeah, I can, actually. But hating them is the wrong move. You need to just push that aside and move on. You can't force people to like you. You have to earn their respect. And it looks to me like you're well on your way to that already."

"Sometimes I think I am, but then . . . aaah!" He threw his hands up into the air in frustration. "I wish I could just rip out all the anger, all the jealousy, all the darkness, and have done with it!"

"Can half a man live?"

Loki stared at him blankly.

"_Star Trek _reference. That episode where Captain Kirk is split in half by a transporter accident . . . you haven't seen that one yet, have you?"

"I have not."

"Listen." Bruce pushed a lock of wet hair out of his eyes and continued. "A few years ago, I was in New Orleans, and I went to this _obeah _woman. That's like a healer, a magical healer," he explained, and Loki nodded. "I told her everything, about my childhood, the accident, and the Hulk. And I asked her if there was something she could give me to get rid of him. You know what she told me?"

"I cannot imagine."

"She said, 'He is part of you. All your rage, all your anger, given a face and a voice. He has always been a part of you, and you cannot remove him as you would a wart. You must learn to live in peace with him, for only when you find balance will both of you be happy.'"

"And what did you do?"

"I thought she was nuts. Live in peace with that monster? Yeah, like that was ever gonna happen. And then Nathan told me something."

"Did he?" Loki shifted position slightly, his wet clothes making a sucking sound on the hard stone.

"He said that I should try talking to him. Find out what he wants. At first I thought **he **was nuts, but then . . . I tried it. And I think I got through to him. I was actually surprised that it worked, but it does. And letting him smash stuff every once in a while helps, too."

"So . . . what are you suggesting?"

"Have you ever heard of the Eastern concept of yin and yang?"

The god frowned. "No, I don't think so."

"It's all about balance. About opposites. There can be no light without the darkness. There can be no day without night. Joy is defined by pain, and vice versa."

"That makes absolutely no sense at all."

"Okay, try this: when I want to talk to him, I picture myself in my quiet place. It's a place in my head where I feel safe and secure. Only when I feel completely at ease do I let him in. And we talk."

"You . . . hear voices?"

"No, it's all—it's like a form of deep meditation. You need to create that safe place, that sanctuary, for yourself, before you can begin to work with your other half. It can be either inside or outside. Some people find their happy place in nature. Sometimes it's on a beach, or on the top of a mountain. It should be somewhere that's uniquely personal to you. It's your own place, no one else's."

"And it's in my mind?"

"It takes practice, but once you've got it down, you can close your eyes and be there in an instant. And once you're at that level, then you can start thinking about bringing him in."

"Him? I have to give him a face, and a name?"

"It does help. Let's go in now, and I'll help you get started. You won't believe how much better it'll make you feel."

"All right, I suppose so." He stood up, shook himself like a dog, and went inside. Bruce followed, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having been able to help him.

_There is no light without darkness. There is no day without night. And there is no spring without the winter's cold. When you stop fearing the darkness, and learn to live with it . . . that is when true healing begins._

Thank you, _obeah _woman.

And Nathan, for knowing it without even being aware. He was only nine and a half, but he was the most well-adjusted person Bruce had ever met.

* * *

2. Just a Cold

A few days before school vacation was due to start, Nathan caught a cold, but he didn't worry. He had his survival pack with him: cold tablets, cherry cough drops, packs and packs of tissues, a zipper-lock plastic bag to put the used tissues in, hand sanitizer, and antibacterial wipes. He'd be fine, and so would everyone else.

Dad had lots of activities planned for the week: a trip to the zoo, a visit to the Museum of Natural History, a ferry ride to the Statue of Liberty, and lots of other cool stuff. As long as they weren't all in one day, Nathan would be fine. His energy levels were a little low right now, because of the cold, but as long as he got plenty of sleep and drank lots of water, he'd be fine.

Right now, he sat in the back seat of the car, put his head back against the seat, and closed his eyes. He was due for another dose of medicine when they arrived, and he could feel the stuff starting to build up in his head. It felt very heavy, and he could barely hold it up. It was the first time he'd been sick all year, and he didn't like it one bit. And of course it **would** have to happen just as he was leaving for vacation . . .

"You all right back there, buddy?" Dad called to him. Nathan just grunted, not having the energy to answer properly.

"Oh, just let him sleep," said Uncle Tony. "He's tired, and he doesn't feel good, so just cut him some slack."

But Nathan wasn't asleep yet. He could still hear everything, but he didn't let it bother him. He just kept his mind on spending a whole week with his dad, and let everything else float away into the ether.

Maybe he did fall asleep, because the next thing he knew, his dad was shaking him. "We're here, Nate. Can you help me with your stuff?"

"Huh?" He opened his eyes and then coughed, covering his mouth just in time. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Do you think you can lift your end of the trunk? It's really heavy."

"Yeah, I'll get it." He stretched, stood up, and came around to help with the trunk. Then he remembered his backpack and rushed to get it before coming back to lift his end of the trunk.

He only had to stop and rest once. Dad was good about it, telling him, "We'll move again when you're ready."

"I think I need another nap."

"That's fine. Come and say hello to everybody first, though, okay? Can you do that?"

"I think so."

"Okay, then. Whenever you're ready."

After taking a moment just to catch his breath, he picked up the trunk again. When they put it down again, inside the door of his room, he wanted to drop right on top of it. He was so tired. Maybe it was mono. One of the kids at school had had mono at the beginning of the term. He'd been out of commission for almost a month.

Nathan hoped he didn't have mono.

"Should I unpack first," he asked, "or go say hi first?"

"Go say hi to everyone first," Dad said. "Then you can go take a nap."

"Did you have anything planned today?" Was today the museum trip, or was it tomorrow?

"Not really. I figured you could take today to settle in and relax, and tomorrow we'll go somewhere. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great." Nathan hoped the medicine started to kick in by tomorrow, or this would be a very boring vacation. He wanted to see the zoo and the museum and the other places that Dad had planned for them to go. He was sure he'd be fine; it was only a little cold, after all.

He wanted to go lay down on his bed and go to sleep—he was soooo tired—but he held it together long enough to go upstairs and say hello to everyone. Well, almost everyone. Thor wasn't there; when Nathan asked, Uncle Tony said that he had gone back to Asgard for some sort of formal event that might take days, or weeks. It had something to do with the end of a war.

"So Loki went with him?"

"Uh, no, actually, Loki's been in his room ever since Thor left. I don't know what he's up to, but a couple of times when I've walked by there, I can swear I hear . . . Taylor Swift."

Nathan just shrugged. "Cool. Can I go unpack now?"

"Sure," his dad said. "I'll come and get you when it's time for dinner."

With that, Nathan went to his room, took some of his medicine, lay down on the bed, and went to sleep still in his clothes. He never did get anything unpacked.

He woke some time later to the knock on his door. When Nathan opened his eyes, someone was standing over him. "Dad?"

But it wasn't his dad. It was Loki.

Nathan stared at him, trying to think of something to say, when suddenly the god vanished. The boy blinked, wondering if what he'd seen was real or only in his mind.

Then his dad came in. "Oh, good, you're awake. You hungry?"

"Yeah," Nathan said, though he wasn't, really. "What's for dinner?"

"Fish sticks and corn on the cob."

"The good kind of fish sticks?"

"The best kind. How're you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess." His head was a little fuzzy, still, but he could breathe all right, and he thought he'd be able to eat something.

There were only four plates on the counter when they got to the kitchen. "Who's not eating?" Dad asked.

"Well," Uncle Tony said, as he counted out fish sticks, "Mr. and Mrs. Smith had to leave for Dubai. They'll be gone for at least two weeks. Pepper's still in her meeting, and Cinderevil is still sulking about not being invited to the ball."

"He **is** eating, isn't he?"

"Well, he's not dead, so he must be. Either he's sneaking out to get food, or he's got the world's biggest supply of Pop Tarts stashed in his room."

Nathan wondered if he should say something about seeing Loki in his room just now. But he wasn't sure if that had really happened, so he kept quiet about it for now. It wasn't really lying, was it, if they didn't ask him?

"I'll make him up a plate anyway," Uncle Tony said. "If he wants it, he can come and get it. I'm willing to give him all the space he needs just as long as it doesn't affect his health. But if he's starving to death, I'll break that door down."

"I doubt he'd take it to those extremes," said Dad. "He's a drama llama, but he has a strong sense of self-preservation. When he needs food, he'll come and find it."

It happened again the next morning. Nathan woke up and saw Loki staring down at him. He tried to say something, but started coughing so hard he saw spots before his eyes. When his vision cleared, the trickster was gone.

He wondered if he should say something about it to his dad, but decided that it was no big deal. At least he knew now that Loki was coming out occasionally, and must be eating something.

He decided to go have some breakfast. Juice, at least. That would help his cold. And he needed to take some more medicine before they left for the museum. And bring extra cough drops, too.

He noticed, when he opened the fridge to get the juice and the milk for his cereal, that the leftover fish dinner from the night before was gone. See? He was eating. Why he wouldn't come out and talk to them, Nathan didn't understand, but he supposed it was a grownup thing. Or maybe a god thing.

Or maybe, like Uncle Tony said, he was just being moody.

Dad got up about seven-thirty. "Hey, Nate. How're you feeling?"

"Okay." He did feel a little better. A good night's sleep had made a big difference. "What time are we going to the museum?"

"Well, they don't even open until nine, and we have to wait for Uncle Tony anyway. Unless he's working on something, he sleeps late. So maybe nine-thirty? If he's not up by then, I'll go get him."

"What about Loki? Can he come?" Nathan coughed into his elbow. When he pulled his arm away, there was a thick blob of yellowish phlegm on his pajama sleeve. "Eew!"

Dad handed him the box of tissues. "Just wipe that off. You take your medicine yet?"

"Not yet. I will before we leave, though."

"Why don't you go take it now? Then you won't forget."

"Okay." He stood there for a minute, trying to remember what it was that he wanted to tell Dad. There was something . . . oh, never mind. If he thought of it, he'd tell him.

By the time he'd been to his room and back, Uncle Tony was up, sitting at the counter drinking coffee. "Hey, sport. How you feeling today?"

"All right. I took my medicine."

"Well, good. Just don't breathe on me, okay? I can't afford to get sick right now."

"I'll try not to." He didn't want to be the cause of everyone getting sick. Then they'd all be mad at him, and he didn't want anyone to be mad at him.

Uncle Steve came in, fully dressed in a suit and tie (which Nathan had never seen him in before), and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Morning, guys."

"Where are you off to?" Uncle Tony asked him.

"I'm, um, meeting someone."

"Really? Like, a female someone?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yeah. I would, actually. So spill."

"We're going to the Natural History Museum," Nathan said. His voice came out sounding funny, and he tried to clear his throat, but it turned into a coughing fit. When he could breathe again, he poured himself another glass of juice.

"You sure you're okay?" his dad asked him. "We can go another day, you know. We've got all week."

"I'm okay. I'll bring extra cough drops."

"All right, but if you start feeling really sick, you let me know, and we'll go home. I don't want you pushing yourself beyond what your body can take. Even if we don't get to see everything today, we can go back another time. If not this week, then maybe in the summertime, or on one of your weekends. Okay?"

"Okay, Dad." Nathan nodded and drank some more juice. He was sure he'd be okay; it wasn't as if he was running the New York Marathon or moving furniture or something strenuous like that, just walking around a museum for a few hours. He could do that, right? There was nothing wrong with his legs, after all.

"Well, I'm off," said Uncle Steve. "Enjoy the museum, kiddo. Maybe I'll go with you next time."

"I want details!" Uncle Tony called after him. "At least tell me her name!"

"Her name is Miss Nunya Bizness."

"Oh, come on! Pictures! Send pictures!"

But he was already gone.

"Fine! Whatever! We'll have a better time without you anyway! Go get dressed, Nate, we'll leave as soon as you're ready."

"Can I wear my dinosaur sweatshirt?"

"Absolutely! There's no dress code. Wear whatever you want."

"Okay!" He ended up wearing his Iron Man sweatshirt, since he couldn't find the dinosaur one; Uncle Tony approved. And he stuffed his pockets full of cough drops, but unfortunately, he forgot the tissues and had to make do with some napkins that Dad found in the car's glove compartment. But at least he had hand sanitizer.

Nathan loved the museum, just as Bruce had known he would. He raced from exhibit to exhibit, eager to take in everything all at once. The only thing he refused to do was touch anything, for fear of leaving germs behind. He tried not to breathe on anything, either.

But all that running around was taking a lot out of him. When they finally made it to the Hall of Dinosaurs or whatever it was called, he began coughing so hard that he had to stop and hold onto something so that he wouldn't fall over.

"Listen to him," Tony whispered. "I think it's time to take him home."

"You could be right. We **have** been all over this place already. Yeah, I think we should go." With that, he walked up to where Nathan stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're gonna go now, okay?"

"But—but what about the dinosaurs?"

"We'll see them next time. We've been here for four hours, buddy. We'll go home and have lunch, and then maybe we'll watch some movies. You get to pick the movie. Anything you want."

* * *

There was a plate with two thick grilled cheese sandwiches, a bowl of chicken noodle soup, and a mug of tea sitting at his place when he came back from his room. He looked over, and Dad was standing at the stove, flipping over his own sandwich and smiling.

"Thanks," he said, his voice thick and gravelly. He drank some of the tea, and though he didn't like the taste much, the honey did go down smoothly and made his throat feel better.

"Want a bit of milk in it?" Dad asked. Nathan nodded, figuring that it couldn't hurt. Dad poured just enough so that the tea wouldn't overflow the mug. Nathan stuck his spoon in it and stirred, seven times, counter-clockwise.

"Your mother used to stir her tea like that," Dad said. "I remember that from when we worked together. You know, you're so much like her, in so many ways. It surprises me sometimes."

"Really?"

"Really. Eat your soup before it gets cold."

"Where's Uncle Tony?"

"He said he had something to do, down in the lab. He'll be around, if you need him. Loki's still in his room, I guess. I haven't seen him since we got back."

"Dad? What if he gets out?"

"Well, he's not a prisoner. If he wants to come out and join us, he's welcome. And if he doesn't, that's okay too. I'll go knock on his door again, when we're finished eating."

"He's been in my room a couple of times," Nathan said, before he could stop himself.

Dad looked at him curiously. "Has he? When?"

"Yesterday, before you came to get me, and then again this morning. The first time, I thought I'd imagined it, but when it happened again, I knew it had to be real. He didn't do anything, just stood there looking at me. Then he kind of disappeared."

"Hmm. Do you lock your door?"

"Not at night. I'm not supposed to, in case there's a fire."

"So he's not breaking in. He still shouldn't be in your room, though. I'll have to speak to him about it."

"Dad, what's wrong with him?"

"What makes you think anything's wrong?"

"Yesterday, when I woke up and saw him there, he looked so sad. I wanted to ask him why, but he was gone before I could. When's Thor coming back?"

"I don't know. He said it might be a few days. We don't know how to get in touch with him."

"He'd come if it was an emergency, right?"

"But it's not an emergency."

"It could be."

"Look, sport. Before you go crying wolf, let me talk to Loki and find out what's going on. If he'll talk to me. Which I think he will; he seems to like me."

"And me."

"Well, that goes without saying. You were his first real friend here, did you know that?"

"I'm done." The bowl was empty, the plate held only crumbs, and the mug had been drained dry.

"So you are. Did you want to watch the movie now, or do you want a nap first?"

"I'll try to sleep. But I can't—" The cough came out of nowhere and took him by surprise. Once he started, it was like he couldn't stop. He tried to cover his mouth, but it was like he couldn't even breathe. Then it was over, as suddenly as it had begun.

"That doesn't sound good at all," Dad said. "I think maybe you should lie down for a bit. We'll put the movie on when you're ready."

"Okay." He wasn't really that tired, but if Dad said he should lie down, then he would. Dad was smart, and he knew what he was doing.

* * *

What was he doing?

Bruce paused before Loki's door, wondering if this was a mistake. Didn't the man deserve some privacy? If he wanted to socialize, he would have come out and joined them long ago. Maybe he had a good reason for staying holed up in his room. Or maybe he just didn't feel like joining the human race right now.

_If he doesn't answer, or he won't come out, I'll just go away. No point in pestering him._

He tapped on the door. "Loki? Are you busy?"

There was no immediate answer.

He tried again. "Loki? We're not mad at you, or anything. We just want to make sure that you're okay. Nathan's worried about you."

He waited for a reply.

"I'm fine," the muffled response came from the other side of the door. "Please go away."

"Okay. But if you need anything, please come and tell us." He started to walk away, and then thought of one more thing. "And please don't go into Nathan's room while he's sleeping."

"I did what?" The door opened suddenly, and the god, in a faded MIT sweatshirt that he must have stolen from Tony's closet, was standing there, looking puzzled. "I haven't been in anyone's room but my own."

"But he says he saw you standing over him, when he woke up. Yesterday, and this morning."

"He must be mistaken. I have not been in his room at all."

"He was so sure you were there. You have been sneaking out to get food, though, haven't you?"

"To that, I will confess."

"You could always sit down with us."

"Not . . . right now. I am not in the mood."

"Okay. It's there, when you want it. I'll leave you now."

"Doctor?"

He stopped in his tracks, turned. "What is it?"

"He's not well, is he? The boy?"

"He's got a cold. He'll be fine. I've got it."

"Are you sure? I heard him coughing . . ."

"I know. I can take care of it. Don't worry."

And with that, he left the floor. He heard the door close and lock behind him, and vowed that he would find a way to entice the god out of his seclusion—in the nicest possible way, of course. It was either that or wait for Thor to come home, and that could take days, if not weeks. Celestial beings had no sense of time, at least not in the way that mortals did. It could be ages before he was able to slip away from the family party or whatever—

Family party.

Loki was family, and he wasn't invited.

No wonder the guy was so down. Nobody likes to be excluded from all the fun, even if they know they're not welcome at the party. Bruce felt really bad for him now, even though he'd never had a family to reject him. He wanted more than ever to try and bring the god out of his shell, but he knew that to press the issue would only make him clam up more. Best to leave it for now, and let him come to them in his own time.

His primary concern right now was Nathan, who really sounded bad. Bruce knew he should go in and take a look at the boy at some point, but he also knew that Nathan didn't like being fussed over. He was sensible enough to go to bed if he was really feeling bad, but he didn't like to take up too much of anyone else's time.

Just to satisfy his own sense of paternal responsibility, he looked in on the boy quickly. He was sleeping already, although it hadn't been that long since Bruce had left, and although his breathing sounded a bit wheezy, he didn't have a fever—or not much of one, if he did—and he seemed better. He'd just have to keep after Nate to keep taking his medicine, and stay indoors. The zoo trip was definitely out, especially since there was a chance of rain tomorrow.

All of a sudden, Bruce became aware of another presence in the room.

He turned around, and saw Loki standing by the boy's bed, leaning over him. "I thought you said you didn't come in—"

The god looked at him, flickered, and disappeared.

A projection? It had to be. And one that he clearly wasn't aware of, since he had insisted that he hadn't been in Nathan's room at all. Well, this proved one thing, at least: Nate wasn't imagining things. Loki had really been here, or at least part of him had.

But why?

A question that might never be answered. In the meantime, Bruce returned to the living room, pulled out _Ghostbusters_, one of Nate's favorite movies, for them to watch later, and sat and read for a while.

A little while later, Steve came in. His jacket was unbuttoned, and his tie was pulled down, but Bruce didn't ask. "Hi," he said. "Good time?"

"She never showed. I waited for forty-five minutes, and there was no sign of her. I couldn't call her, because I didn't have her number, so I waited for her to call me. Nothing. In my day, if a woman asked you to meet her some place, she would be waiting there when you got there. On time. And if she couldn't make it, she'd call and let you know why. People are so rude these days."

"Maybe something came up," Bruce suggested, "and she couldn't call you. Do you at least know her last name? Maybe you could look her up on Facebook or something."

Steve shook his head. "She told me, but I can't remember what it was. Probably just as well."

"Do you want some music? Or the TV?"

"No," he sighed. "I think I'll just go get changed and go work out for a while. I'm too frustrated to sit still right now."

"Okay. I'll call you when dinner's ready. I was thinking I'd make beef stew; that sound okay to you?"

"Sounds great." He disappeared down the hall, and Bruce went back to his book.

* * *

It was just a quiet day, with all of them off doing their own thing, but when dinner time came around, Bruce laid out five bowls on the counter.

Five.

"Expecting company, are we?" said Tony.

"I'm hoping that Loki will come and join us. If not, I'll just put it aside for him."

"I'll go get him." Before anyone could stop him, the billionaire strode off down the hall and didn't stop till he got to Loki's door. He banged on it, calling, "Yo! Rudolph! Time to eat!"

"No, thank you."

"You don't understand. That wasn't a request. That was a statement of fact. The fact that if you don't come out of hibernation right now, I'm coming in there to drag you out, one way or another."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Don't make me come in there."

"I want to be alone!"

"You don't get to be alone! My house, my rules, and one of my rules is that we all eat together. So stop this nonsense and come out and join us!"

The door opened so suddenly that Tony stumbled forward a bit, but caught himself. "Nonsense? You call it nonsense, the fact that my family doesn't want me in their presence? That I can't see my children? It was all I was looking forward to, and now I may never see them again!"

"You're not the only one here with family issues, you know!"

"Hey, guys!" Steve had come to find out what all the shouting was about. "What's going on?"

Loki crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I do not appreciate," he said coldly, "being ordered to leave my room, like a child! I don't care if it's your house! If I had anywhere else to go, I would."

"You need to stop moping around and grow up already! Oh, boo hoo, your family hates you. I never had the best relationship with my father. You know what my last words to him were? Literally, screw you. And then he died. And I couldn't take them back. At least you still have a chance to make things right with your family."

"They will never forgive me."

"All right, this is clearly an issue for another time," said Steve. "For now, Loki, would you please come eat with us? Then you can be alone, if you want."

"We're gonna watch _Ghostbusters_," Tony said. "I know you like that movie. You're welcome to sit with us. I promise not to yell anymore."

"Well . . . I suppose. What's for dinner?" Loki stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him.

Crisis averted. For now.

Nathan seemed a bit better, Bruce noticed. He ate two bowls of stew, plus four slices of bread and butter, and he didn't cough or complain at all. The nap had done him some good.

"I want you to pick out a couple of movies," he said, "that we can watch tomorrow."

"I thought we were going to the zoo tomorrow," Nathan said, confused.

"We can go to the zoo later in the week. It's supposed to be kind of yucky out, anyway. Not exactly zoo-going weather."

"I don't wanna mess up your plans!"

"You're not messing up my plans. We'll just . . . juggle things around a bit. Don't worry about it. Sometimes the best part of a vacation is having the time to stay in and do nothing."

"Well . . . okay." He didn't look too happy, but he let the matter go and finished his dinner. "That was good, Dad."

"Yes, it was very good," said Tony. "You're quite the chef, Doc."

Bruce just shrugged. "I've had to do for myself for so long. It feels nice to be able to share with others. I like having a family."

"Oh, is that what we are?" Tony looked around. "I guess we are. Yeah, it's . . . nice. At least we have each other."

Loki looked at him but didn't say a word. Bruce decided to change the subject. "Who wants strawberry shortcake? With real whipped cream."

"Is it the kind in the little spongy cups, or the kind on biscuits?" Nathan asked.

"Biscuits. There's vanilla ice cream in it, too. But you have to eat it at the table, cause strawberry juice stains the carpet."

"I have never had this short cake with strawberries before," said Loki.

"Oh, you'll love it!" said Tony. "You like strawberries, right?"

"I . . . guess so."

"Well, try it anyway. If you don't like it, give it to me, and I'll finish it for you. I never met a strawberry shortcake I didn't like."

"All right, then."

As it turned out, the strawberry shortcake was delicious. There was just enough for everyone to have seconds, and Loki did so gladly. Nathan just had the ice cream the second time around.

He fell asleep halfway through the movie, even though it was only seven-thirty. Bruce had to wake him up to put him to bed, since the kid was too big to carry. He tucked him in and wished he could do more for him. It was hard to know exactly what to do until he knew exactly what the boy had, and he wouldn't know that without a full examination. Hopefully, he could do that tomorrow.

He came back out to the living room and sat back down.

"How is he?" asked Tony.

"I think he'll be okay. It's probably just a bad cold, but sometimes it sounds so bad. That cough . . . I want to listen to his lungs, to make sure it's not something serious."

"Schools are hotbeds of germs. They're always coughing and sneezing on each other."

"I remember those days well," said Steve. "Up until I was about nine or ten, I would be pretty much constantly sick from October until May. Then it got a little bit better. The worst thing was hearing all the kids playing outside, and knowing that I couldn't go out and join them. It seemed like I was always in a room by myself."

"I, too, did not have many playmates," said Loki. "Thor's friends let me tag along with them, but I had no one to play with when he wasn't around. That should have been my first clue, that I wasn't like everyone else."

When the movie was over, they debated whether or not to put on the sequel (which was _ehhh_) or pick another movie entirely. Problem was, there wasn't any movie currently lodged in the entertainment center that they could all agree on. So they put the TV on and flipped around channels until they found something non-offensive that they could stand to watch for the few hours remaining until bedtime.

And through it all, Loki just sat there, presumably watching the program but who knew what he was thinking. He said nothing unless someone spoke to him directly, and then he kept his responses to one syllable. He didn't seem to be having a good time, and finally during a commercial, Bruce said, "You don't have to stay with us. You can go, if you want."

The god looked at him. "Go?"

"Back to your room. Just remember to come out for breakfast. Okay?" He wanted to reach out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he wasn't sure how Loki would react to being touched.

"All right. Thank you for dinner. It was very good." He got up and went back to his room, glancing once over his shoulder as if he expected them to be talking about him the second his back was turned. When he saw that they weren't talking about anything at all, he moved on.

There was some new cop show on one of the high-number cable stations. They watched that until the news came on, and then Bruce stood up and stretched. "Think I'll turn in now," he said.

"Okay," said Tony. "See you tomorrow."

"Good night," said Steve.

Before he went to his own room, Bruce took a moment to look in on Nathan. He was still sleeping, and there was no one else, projection or not, in the room. Satisfied, Bruce went to bed.

* * *

Something woke him suddenly. He felt the Other Guy stirring deep within him, and deep-breathed until he was sure he had control of himself. Only then did he open his eyes.

"About time," Loki said. "I was about to shake you, but I thought that might rouse your beast instead."

"Well, thank you for that." Was this a projection, or was he really here? Bruce was confused. But the projections had never spoken before . . .

When the god put his hand on the scientist's arm, he knew that this was no projection. "Come! Hurry! The boy, he—something is wrong!"

"What?" He sat up and tried to look at the clock. It was 3:27 AM. "What's wrong? Tell me!"

"I think you had better see this for yourself. Part of me knew this was coming, but I didn't know until I was compelled to go and check on him, just now."

"Ah." That explained the projections. Bruce swung his legs over the side of the bed and gradually worked his way to a standing position. "All right, let's go."

He could hear it before they even got near the boy's room: the cough that sounded like it was ripping his lungs apart. It was a wonder that it hadn't woken the whole household. There was no question about it now. They would have to take him to the hospital.

"Nathan?" Bruce approached his son slowly and cautiously. The boy was sitting up in bed, leaning forward slightly, and coughing so hard that the whole bed was shaking. He put his ear to the boy's chest; he didn't hear the rattle of water in his lungs, but there was something in there that he just couldn't clear. He was burning up, too.

"What's wrong with him?" Loki asked.

"I'm not sure. I'm thinking either flu or bronchitis. It's definitely not pneumonia, though. Go wake up Tony and tell him we need a ride to the emergency room."

"No need, sir," the smooth voice of JARVIS came through the room's speakers. "The rest of the household has already been alerted to the emergency."

"I wish you were human, JARVIS, so I could hug you. Thanks for saving us some time. All right, buddy, let's get up now."

Nathan looked at him helplessly. "Dad, I . . ." he wheezed. "I can't."

"Come on. I know you can do this. Let's break it down into baby steps. Can you stand up?"

"It hurts . . ."

"What hurts?"

"My chest . . . when I cough . . ."

"That's okay. We're gonna go get that checked out. You're gonna be just fine. Now can you stand up for me?"

"I don't know . . ."

"C'mon, I'll help you." He put an arm around the boy and tried to lever him up onto his feet. He had trouble at first, but then it became easier. In surprise, he looked over and saw Loki on Nathan's other side, helping to support him.

Between the two of them, they helped him out of the room, into the elevator, and down to the parking garage, where Tony had brought the car around.

"Are you coming?" he asked the god, after the two of them had loaded Nathan into the car.

Loki shook his head. "I don't think I can."

"That's okay. Go upstairs and tell the others that I'll call as soon as I know what's going on. There's no point in all of us clogging up the waiting room. If my suspicions are correct, we'll probably be home later today, maybe this afternoon. I'll keep them up to date as much as I can."

The Jotun nodded and went back to the elevator. Tony pulled out at a speed that was probably unsafe for inside the garage, but Bruce understood that he was worried, too. He wasn't worried about them getting a speeding ticket—if they had to, they could explain to the officer that they had a legitimate medical emergency here, and maybe even get an escort—but he was concerned that at this speed, in confined spaces, Tony might lose control of the Hummer and roll over or crash.

Then, finally, they rounded the last corner and Bruce saw the exit up ahead. He breathed a sigh of relief, and knew that everything was going to be all right now.

* * *

The dragon at the front desk handed them a stack of forms to fill out and told them to have a seat.

Nathan was coughing again, trying to cover his mouth, and the sound caused Bruce's heart to leap into his throat. For one horrifying second, he saw green. Then Tony was there, taking him by the arm and helping him to a seat. "Let me handle this," he said.

"He needs help," Bruce practically sobbed. "Why won't they let him in?"

"I called my personal physician before we left. She should be here by now. I'll go ask them to call her." He went up to the front desk. "Excuse me."

The dragon gave him a dirty look and went back to filing her papers.

"Could you please call Dr. Birnbaum down here? I spoke to her earlier; she's expecting us."

"Have a seat, sir. We'll be right with you."

"Do you hear that?" He gestured back toward the row of seats where Nathan sat, coughing as if his lungs were coming apart. "That kid is sick! He needs to be seen right away! Do you know who we are?"

"I don't know, and I really don't care. We've had to handle several accidents tonight, sir, and—"

"And if you're not careful, you'll have another. That man over there is . . ." He looked over at Bruce. No, he couldn't play the Hulk card; it wouldn't be fair. "He's a father," he finished. "That kid is his only child. He'll never have another—the mother is dead! Losing that child will destroy that man. Please, if you have a shred of decency in you, call Dr. Birnbaum. I don't know how much longer we can wait."

She hesitated. He took advantage of the opening. "Do you have kids . . ." He squinted at her name tag. "Shantal? Did I pronounce that right?"

"I have two boys," she said. "Eight, and eleven."

"And you'd move heaven and earth to get them help if they were sick, right?"

She gave him a long, long look, and then she said, "I'll call Dr. Birnbaum. But you sit your rear end down until she gets here! If you disrupt the other patients, I **will** have you thrown out of here. Now sit!"

He sat. He was afraid to move now, after she had threatened to evict him from the premises. And she meant business, he could tell.

"Is the doctor coming?" Bruce asked.

"The . . . nice lady at the desk is calling her." Tony glanced up at Shantal the Desk Dragon and quickly looked away before she could catch him looking. "We just have to wait for a few minutes."

"Some of these people have been here for hours."

"What do you want me to do? He can't see just anybody; Susan has his file, she knows what to expect. She should be here by now."

It seemed like forever before a petite, dark-haired woman in a white coat approached them. "Nathan?"

He looked up, exhaustion in his eyes. It was four-thirty in the morning.

"I'm Doctor Birnbaum," she said. "If you'd like to come with me, please . . ."

Nathan stood up. So did the men on either side of him.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, "but only one of you can come in with him."

Tony turned to Bruce and said, "You go. You're the dad. I'll see if I can call home and give them an update."

"Sounds like a plan."

When they were in the exam room, behind closed doors, Dr. Birnbaum said, "You can turn that off now, Nathan. It's safe."

He looked at her quizzically.

"Your inducer. You won't need it in here, and I need to see you as you are. You'll have to get undressed, too, but you can keep your underpants on."

The boy blushed, which looked greenish-purple on his scaly face. "Do I have to?"

"I'm afraid so. I can't do the tests I need to do through your clothes. If you end up having to stay here, I'll put them in a bag with your name on it, so they won't get lost. But hopefully you won't be here for more than a few hours. Okay? I'll be back in a few minutes."

She left the room, and Nathan reluctantly started taking off his pajamas. His dad helped him, since he was too weak to lift his arms over his head.

"Am I gonna have to stay?" he asked.

"Maybe. It depends on what they find when they run the tests. It shouldn't be anything too scary," he said, seeing the look on Nate's face. "Nothing involving needles or electricity. Probably a chest X-ray, but that's not too bad. All you have to do is hold still for a few minutes. You can do that, can't you?"

Nathan nodded grimly. He didn't like medical tests, and with good reason; Bruce still didn't know the full extent of the torture Jack Franklin had put the boy through, and he doubted he ever would. He was thankfully past the point where he would scream if he so much as saw a needle, but he had a long way to go before he felt comfortable in the presence of so many sharp objects.

Dr. Birnbaum came back a few minutes later. "Okay, let's see what's going on in here," she said, holding the end of a stethoscope to Nathan's chest. "Deep breath in . . . and let it out."

The effort of breathing deeply made him cough, but the doctor just nodded and said, "Again. Hold it this time." She listened as he breathed in and out, and she didn't seem too perturbed by what she heard. "Are you having any pain in your chest?"

"Sometimes, when I cough."

"Any other times?"

The boy thought about it and shook his head.

"Okay, I'm going to take you into another room now. I'm going to take a few X-rays, just to rule out anything serious. This will just take a few minutes, okay?"

Nathan looked at his dad, who said, "I'll wait for you here. Don't be scared. It's not anything that'll hurt you. Just do what the doctor says, and I'll see you soon."

The X-ray wasn't as bad as Nathan had thought it would be. All he had to do was stand in front of the machine and hold still for about a minute. He felt himself needing to cough, but held it in.

At last, the doctor told him he could go back in the other room and get dressed. He was so tired he could barely make it, but he managed to drag himself back to where his dad was waiting. Together, they got his clothes back on.

"What do you think, Dad?" Nathan asked hoarsely. "How bad is it?"

"We'll see when the doctor comes back. I think I know what it is, but I want to see what she says first."

"Okay." He sat there, breathing shallowly so he wouldn't set off another coughing fit, but it was harder than he thought. Not being able to breathe through his nose wasn't helping.

At last Dr. Birnbaum came into the room. "Well, the good news is," she began, "it definitely isn't pneumonia. The symptoms would seem to indicate bronchitis. You won't need antibiotics, and it should clear up within about two to three weeks."

Nathan's heart sank. There went his vacation. "Will I have to stay in bed?"

"No, although you may be more tired than normal. If you need to sleep, you should, but don't chain yourself to your bed. You can go back to school at the end of the week. You shouldn't be contagious anymore. If the cough gets worse, or persists beyond four weeks, call me. Otherwise, you should be fine."

"That's exactly what I thought it was," Dad said. "Thank you, Doctor. What do you recommend for something like this?"

"There are several over the counter cough remedies that will help. Don't go for a multi-symptom medicine, though; they tend not to work as well on specific symptoms. Tylenol should bring that fever right down, and help with some of the aches as well. But given your immune system, I wouldn't be surprised if you were completely over it within a week."

"I hope so," Nathan said. "Can I go now?"

"Sure. Like I said, call me if you don't get better in a few days. It was very nice meeting you, Nathan." And he could tell that she meant it.

They returned to the tower about five o'clock, and Nathan took his doses of cough syrup and Tylenol and went straight to bed. As he walked back to his own rooms, Bruce noticed that Loki's door was closed, although that didn't mean he was within. He could be in another part of the tower, or on the roof where he liked to sit sometimes. Bruce wasn't worried, though; wherever the god was, he'd be at breakfast with the rest of them soon enough.

He decided to catch a few more hours of sleep, if he could, and set his alarm for eight. Long before that, however, the thunder woke him up.

At first he was confused. There weren't any storms in the forecast last night, were there? But then he realized what the thunder meant.

Thor was back.

* * *

By the time Bruce made it out to the kitchen, Loki was there. He looked glad to see his brother at last.

"How is Mother?" he asked.

Thor smiled. "She sends her love. She spoke up for you, tried to convince Father to let you come, but he refused. He said . . . not yet."

"When, then? When do I get to see my children?"

"Right now!"

"But . . . I thought you said—"

"I said you could not come to Asgard. But you see, Asgard has come to you! Come, children! Your father waits!"

There was a flurry of activity and childish shouts as three or four little boys (they were moving too quickly for Bruce to get an accurate count) came running. "Daddy, Daddy!"

The look on Loki's face was wondrous to behold. "Oh, my boys!" he cried, holding out his arms. They swarmed all over him. "Oh, my babies! To hold you at last!"

The last to arrive was a little girl who looked about seven years old. Her dark hair hung in two thin braids, and when Bruce looked closely, he noticed that she had one green eye and one brown eye.

"Hello, Father," she said solemnly.

Loki looked up from the boys' attentions to meet her mismatched eyes. "Hello, Hela," he said, and then she too launched herself into his arms.

"Come, children!" Thor roared. "We will have waffles and syrup, and watch Bob the Sponge of the Square Pants!"

"I'll be right back," Bruce said, and went to Nathan's room. He was pleased to find the boy awake. "You feel like coming out for breakfast?"

"I guess so," Nathan said. "I do feel a little better. I heard the thunder. Is Thor back?"

"He is, and he brought company."

"Company?"

"Family members. They're a little younger than you . . . I think. Hard to tell with demigods. Anyway, they're watching cartoons, if you want to come and join them."

"I won't get them sick?"

"The doctor said you're not contagious anymore. Just don't cough on them or anything."

"I won't."

"And we're having waffles. I know you like waffles."

"With blueberry syrup?"

"I think I can find some for you."

"Yay!" He practically leaped out of bed. Maybe this vacation wouldn't turn out so bad, after all.


	7. April, pt 2

_(A/N: I'm so sorry, guys! I thought I had uploaded this already! I'm working on May and will get that out soon! In the meantime, hope you enjoy this!)_

* * *

3. Interlude: Geek Lessons, part 2

"How did you like _Star Trek_?" Tony asked Loki, when they gathered in the study for the next round of "geek lessons."

"It was . . . interesting. I liked the series with the android the best."

"_Next Generation?" _said Bruce. "Yeah, it's very popular. I think the reason it succeeded was that it wasn't a retread of the original; it was a new ship, a new crew, in the same universe but at a later time. The thing about both _Trek _and _Wars _is that they're both such expansive universes, filled with so many different concepts, that you can tell any kind of story, set in that framework. But enough about that. Today's lesson is about geek literature."

Tony slapped a rather thick-looking hardcover on the desk. "This is the best of classic science fiction, from all the masters: Heinlein, Asimov, Clarke, Bradbury . . . required reading for geeks. And then there's the fantasy version." He dropped another book, smaller and less heavy, beside it. "Terry Pratchett's Discworld series. The interesting thing about the Discworld books is that they started out making fun of the traditional fantasy tropes, and over time, they evolved into this whole world of their own. There are spinoffs: there's a young adult series about a girl who learns to be a witch. It's not like _Harry Potter_, though; well, not really. And it's funny. That's the best part."

"Really."

"Now, the question often comes up as to what distinguishes science fiction from fantasy. Is it just that one has spaceships and the other has dragons? Or is it something more fundamental? There's a really good article on this on David Brin's blog. Just Google his name, and you'll find it."

"David . . . how do you spell Brin?" Loki paused, pen to paper.

"One N," said Bruce. "His Uplift books are considered classics of science fiction. Amazon should have them."

"Amazon has everything," the god said. "What else?"

"Well, of course," said Tony, "if you're talking about fantasy, **the** classic fantasy trilogy—in fact, the books that established modern fantasy—is the _Lord of the Rings _trilogy. Any reputable bookstore should have them. Or you could just watch the movies—they're pretty faithful to the books."

"I don't know. There's a lot of stuff they left out," said Bruce.

"Well, they had to. Otherwise, they would have ended up with three twelve-hour miniseries. I think Peter Jackson did a great job with them, and I can't wait to see the next part of _The Hobbit_. That's the prequel," he explained to Loki.

"Hobbit . . ." Loki wrote in his notes. He'd started writing all this down because he knew he'd never remember all this information on his own. There was so much to take in.

"Just go online and Google 'essential sci-fi reading list' for the classics no geek should be unaware of," said Tony. "There are some disagreements when it comes to modern sci-fi, but I think the classics are pretty universal. Most libraries should have a pretty good selection. And of course, Amazon has everything. But if you just want to read it before you put down money for it-cause some books start out fine and lose steam halfway through-get it out of the library. You have a card, right?"

"I do." It was one of the first things he had done upon taking up residence at the tower.

"You know how to request books online, right? Through the website?"

"I can do that?"

"Sure," said Bruce. "We can show you how right now. Have a seat and we'll get started."

It was so simple, when they showed him. Sign into the library's website with his card number and a password that he chose himself. Then he could search the database for a particular book, just like searching Google: type the title, author, or subject into the box, click SEARCH, and wait to see what came up. If the local library didn't have that particular volume, it could be shipped from any other library belonging to the same network, in a few days (depending, of course, on how popular the particular volume was).

"Can anyone look up what books I request?" Loki asked, concerned that his reading habits would become public record.

"That's kind of a gray area," said Tony. "The library staff has the record, of course, but they won't give it out to just anyone."

"SHIELD is not just anyone."

"Don't worry about SHIELD. Unless you're checking out a lot of books about how to take over the world or _Automatic Weapons for Dummies_, they won't care what you're reading. You're not planning on reading those kinds of books, are you?"

"Do you think I would tell you if I were?"

"Okay, good point. Your assignment for this week is to check out or request five of the top ten classic sci-fi essential books on the list. Pick whichever ones you want. You could get all of them, if you have the time."

"Not in a week." He read fast, but not **that** fast.

"It might be another month before we can do this again. I've got business trips till the end of this month. And read _Color of Magic_, too! Pratchett is brilliant; you'll love it."

"I guess I have some reading to do, then." Loki gathered up the books and nodded to both men on his way out.

Between the library system, Google, and Wikipedia, the entire wealth of Midgardian knowledge was at his fingertips. Loki looked forward to exploring as much as he could. He loved books. Books didn't judge you; they didn't lie to you about where you came from; they never abandoned or betrayed you. They were his best friends. And there were so many books here to explore! He could never make it through even a hundredth of a percent in a lifetime!

But he was willing to try.

He opened the science fiction volume, and was instantly swept away.

* * *

4. Peggy

The twenty-ninth of April was marked on Steve's wall calendar in red. That was the day that he would board his flight to London, and finally keep a date that had been waiting for sixty-seven years.

It had taken months to finally talk her into letting him come visit. He had wanted to see her last year, after the whole New York mess was over, but she had insisted on keeping their contact to the occasional phone call. She had claimed that between his busy schedule and hers, it would be too difficult for both of them to find the time to get together. Steve suspected that the truth was that she didn't want him to see her as she was now: ninety-five years old, white-haired, wrinkled, bent and sagging with age. But he insisted that it didn't matter to him. He just wanted to keep his promise to her, no matter what.

The February snowstorm had delayed their plans a bit, but finally he had gotten her to agree on April. The first commercial flight he could arrange was on the twenty-ninth, with a return date of May sixth. A week wasn't nearly long enough to catch up on all he had missed, but it would have to do. Maybe in the summer, he could make a return trip—or possibly even fly her to New York.

Departure was still eight days away, but he was already packed. Nothing flashy, nothing fancy; just his everyday clothes. He had thought about bringing his uniform, just in case, but decided against it. If something came up, whoever came to get him could bring it along with them.

At least he didn't have to make hotel reservations. When he had mentioned it, Peggy had laughed and said that he was welcome to her spare room. It wasn't much, she said, but it would save him some money, as well as travel time and aggravation.

Well, it was dinner time now. And since Tony was making his famous spaghetti sauce, there was no way Steve was going to miss this. He checked the tickets one more time, pinned them back up on the bulletin board where he hung all his important papers, and went upstairs to join the others.

Nathan had gone back to his school, but Thor was finally back. Which meant that Loki had finally left his room for more than five minutes at a time. He wasn't Steve's favorite person, but it was good to see him come out of his shell at last.

"I've checked the weather for London," Tony said, as Steve sat down. "It's supposed to be nice next week. Maybe you won't need to pack the umbrella after all."

"Weather changes. So many things change. Whether you want them to or not."

"Change is good. Sometimes."

"Not this much change. I'm beginning to think that maybe she was right. Maybe I don't want to see her like this. Maybe I'd rather remember her as she was. Should I cancel the tickets?"

Pepper came around and put a hand on his shoulder. "You're just nervous. It'll be fine. She'll be glad to see you again. And don't worry about catching up on seventy years in one go. Start with right now, and work your way backward slowly. It'll be fine."

"I . . . all right. I'll try." It was good to know he wasn't alone in this, that he had friends to hold onto when he needed a hand.

* * *

The phone call came two days later, just as he was going over his final packing checklist. It took a few minutes for him to realize that the phone was ringing—not the one in his pocket, which was his work phone; the old-fashioned table phone in the middle of the room. He crossed over to it and picked it up. "Hello?"

"_Is this Captain Rogers?"_

"Yes, it is."

"_Steven Rogers?" _It was a woman's voice, with a crisp British accent, but unless Peggy had lost seven decades since the last time he had talked to her, it couldn't be her. But whoever it was sounded remarkably like her.

"Yes, who's this?"

"_You don't know me, but . . . you knew my grandmother. Peggy Carter?"_

"Yes?" Her use of the past tense worried him. _Oh, no . . ._

"_I'm afraid she . . . she passed away last night. In her sleep, very peacefully. I came this morning to take her to the shops and found her. I thought . . . I thought I should call and let you know."_

"Thank you for that. For calling, I mean." He kept his voice calm, but inside he felt numb. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be . . .

As the woman on the phone—she had told him her name, but he had already forgotten it—went on about services and memorials, he heard, but his brain was a million miles away. He kept seeing her, in his mind, as she had been the last time he had seen her. _Now we'll never have that dance, _he thought, and felt a fresh wave of pain rip through him.

"_Hello? Are you still there?"_

He realized he had been holding the phone to his ear all this time, without speaking a word. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I am."

"_Good, I thought I'd lost you. We can hold everything till you come, if you can't change the tickets for earlier ones."_

"I think I should be able to. Thank you. I'm so sorry for your loss." The words came out automatically; he wasn't even really hearing them.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, and he thought the connection had been lost. But then the woman (girl, really, she sounded so young) said, _"She talked about you all the time, you know."_

"Really?"

"_Couldn't stop her. She was so proud of you and what you'd done. She would have waited for you, you know."_

"But then you wouldn't be here," he pointed out.

"_There is that. Well, I'll leave you to it. See you soon."_

"Goodbye," he said, and replaced the phone in its cradle. It was a familiar object, in this unfamiliar place, and right now, he felt as if he'd just lost the last link to the life he had known, long ago. He sat down on the floor and stared at the wall for a long time, not knowing what to do.

When he came out into the living room, the others noticed the look on his face and instantly knew. "Oh, Steve," Pepper said, coming to him and putting her arms around him, "I'm so sorry."

"She . . . I . . ." He tried to explain, but only burst into tears. He couldn't help it. She had been the world to him, and now she was gone. Forever. How could he go on, without her?

"You're already packed, right?" said Tony. Steve looked up and nodded. "Good. We'll leave as soon as you're ready."

"We?" He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"What do I have a private jet **for**, if not something like this? Save those tickets for a nice long vacation somewhere pretty. I'll go with you to England."

Steve looked at him. "You don't have to do that."

"She came to my father's funeral. Least I can do is return the favor."

The others spoke up, all at once.

"We should all go—"

"Someone should notify SHIELD—"

"Can we send flowers internationally?"

"All right, hold it!" Pepper held her hands up in the universally recognized "stop" gesture. "One at a time. No, I think it would be a bad idea if a whole group of us all showed up. As for calling SHIELD, I think I can do that. If they haven't heard already, that is. And I'll check on the flowers, too. For right now, we need to just back off and give Steve some room."

"No . . . I need . . ." He was having trouble putting it into words. "I don't want to be alone, right now."

"Group hug!" Thor called out, and suddenly Steve was surrounded by his teammates, all murmuring words of comfort and encouragement. He'd never felt so loved in his life.

"Thanks, guys," he said, when he could breathe again. "That means a lot, really."

* * *

Two hours later, when the Stark Jet was taking off, Steve looked around and thought again how lucky he was to have friends. Especially high-powered friends with private jets stocked with an entertainment center, plush seats, and a full bar.

"I met her once, you know," Tony said.

"When?"

"When I was home on a school break, once, when I was about fourteen. My father had this big party for all his business associates, and she was there. We were introduced, but I don't think I made such a great impression. I really didn't want to be there, and . . . I think I might have mouthed off a bit."

"No. Really? Cause that is so unlike you." Steve grinned at the thought of a fourteen-year-old Tony acting up out of boredom. Nothing new there.

"I was trying to get sent to my room, but Dad was too smart for me. He made me sit in the corner . . . and she came over and sat with me. And she talked to me about my school, and the things I was working on, and she told me about my dad, when she first met him. He was studying engineering at the University of Edinburgh, and . . . I'm boring you, aren't I?"

"What? No, not at all."

"Then why are you staring out the window?"

"Just admiring the view."

"Sure you are. What's wrong? Tell me."

Steve didn't want to tell him at first, but then he thought of all the man had done for him, and he gave in. "I feel like I wasted so much time. I wanted to go see her, but she kept putting me off . . . I thought we'd have plenty of time to catch up, so I let her talk me into waiting a little longer . . . and in the end, it turns out I waited too long. I missed my chance."

"You always think there'll be time to fix things. But then . . . shit happens."

"I knew she wouldn't be around forever, but . . . a few more months, at least. Why didn't I come to see her sooner?"

"You can't blame yourself. She was . . . what, ninety-five? She had a good long life. Not like . . ."

"Your father," Steve said quietly. He hadn't asked how Howard had died, figuring that if Tony wanted to talk about it, he would. Now, it seemed, that time had finally come.

"It wouldn't have been so bad if we hadn't had a big screaming fight the night before. He thought I was wasting my life, and I said I had plenty of time to settle down and be responsible. I just had some stuff I needed to get out of my system. But he gave me all this stuff about family duty, and I hung up on him. Correction: I told him to go to hell, and **then** I hung up on him.

"I woke up the next morning and remembered all the things I said, and I was just reaching for the phone to call him and apologize when Obadiah called me. He told me . . . what had happened. The moment I hung up the phone, I sat down on the floor, in complete shock. All my options had suddenly been taken away, and I didn't know what to do. So I got drunk. And I stayed drunk for the next seven days. I don't remember much about the funeral, but I think I leaned over the casket and screamed at him at one point. How could you do this to me, how dare you die on me, you bastard . . . that kind of thing. They had to drag me out of the church and I walked all the way home."

"Wow." Steve didn't know what to say.

"I just didn't know how to deal with it. I still don't. It would have helped to not have been alone that weekend, but I pushed everyone away because I couldn't face them. But I'm here for you now, buddy. I've promised Pepper that I won't touch a drop until we're on our way home."

"You didn't have to do that."

"You, however, can have as much as you like. Oh, that's right, can't get drunk, can you?"

"I wish I could." He slumped back into the plush seat, closing his eyes. "I have the feeling I'm gonna need something to get me through this."

"Well, you have me. For what it's worth."

"Thank you. I don't think I could do this on my own."

"You don't have to. We're a family, remember? Always here for each other. Which reminds me." He reached under his seat and pulled out a box about three feet square, wrapped in bright paper. "You can open this now."

"You got me a present? But my birthday's not till July."

"It's not a birthday present. It's just . . . the others got together and decided to give you this, as a gesture of consolation. Hope you like it."

Steve carefully unwrapped the paper, which had Avenger symbols all over it, and folded it carefully before setting it aside. He then lifted the lid off the box, and looked inside. "It's . . ."

"It's something for your collection. I saw it in an antique shop and thought it'd be perfect. She's missing a shoe, but I found a replacement pair on eBay. They're in the box."

"It looks just like her." The centerpiece of the collection of items in the box was a doll, about eighteen inches high, dressed in an approximation of a women's Army uniform.

"There's more. Keep looking."

He set the doll aside and examined the contents of the box to see what else was in there. He found the shoes, along with a miniature American flag, and two large round buttons, like campaign buttons, only these had his face on them. There was a yellowed copy of _Life_ magazine, in a plastic bag, from May 1944. And at the very bottom, he found a record album-not a CD but an actual, honest to God record-with _Forgotten Classics of the Big Band Era_ written across the front. He turned it over and found that he recognized almost all of the songs.

"Wow, this is great," he said, putting everything back in the box and fitting the lid down tightly. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Not my idea."

"Well, thank whoever had the idea for me, would you?"

"I can do that."

They watched two movies, one an action thriller and the other a buddy comedy with Owen Wilson and someone else Steve didn't recognize. He only knew Wilson because they'd watched that movie about the dog in February. Tony didn't like the comedy much, but Steve thought it was pretty funny.

About an hour before they were due to land, Steve suddenly asked, "When did you stop blaming yourself?"

"Huh?" Tony, who had been dozing off, suddenly jerked upright. "What do you mean?"

"You said you used to blame yourself for how things ended with your dad. When did you stop?"

"I . . . actually, I had a talk with Peggy. She told me not to spend my life mired in regret, and that spending all my time worrying about what could have been was a waste of my energy. And you know what? She was right. When I stopped going over and over that last day in my mind, I did feel a lot better."

"And when did you talk to her?"

"About a year ago. After they found you, in the ice." He shifted in his seat. "Steve . . . the reason she didn't want to see you wasn't because it would be too hard for her. She had moved on. A long time ago. I don't mean that part of her didn't still love you, and miss you, but she just couldn't live in the past all her life. She would have ended up a lonely old woman with a hundred cats, and no family. And I know you wouldn't have wanted that for her."

"No," Steve said, shaking his head slowly. "No, I wouldn't. I'm glad she had a good life, and a wonderful family. I just wish . . . I wish I could have said goodbye."

"Isn't that what we're doing? That's what a funeral is. You'll finally have closure. And I know it's not the ending you had hoped for, but . . . you have to move on. There's a whole big world out there, full of women who'd just love to get into your pants."

"Must you be so crude?"

"Yeah, I know, kinda ruined the moment there, but you know what I mean. I'm sure there are nice women who want a stable relationship in which sex is only a small part, and only after you've gotten to know each other really well. I'm sorry, I'm messing this up, aren't I?"

"And this is you sober?" Steve raised his eyebrows at this.

"I'm not good at all the emotional stuff. But I'm trying. Anyway, she wouldn't want you to live in the past. You've been given a second chance; go out and make the most of it."

"She really said that?"

"She did. I wouldn't lie to you about that. So take your pieces of the past, go put them up on the shelf where you can look at them once in a while, and then go out and live in the present. We're all here for you, Stevarino. Just say the word."

In all his life, Steve had never known anyone who could be so frustrating, annoying, and yet so perceptive and loyal. _That's some boy you've got there, Howard, _he thought.

He smiled. "Thanks."

A short while later came the announcement that the plane would be landing shortly. He was ready. For whatever came his way.

Ready to say goodbye and move on.


	8. May

_(A/N: Sorry this is so late! I had trouble with it. June is already finished, so that will be up on time. See you then!)_

* * *

MAY

1. Mother's Day

The two of them stood at the grave, as they had in January, looking down at the flowers they had laid in front of the stone. Chrysanthemums, her favorite flower. Bruce remembered that from all her flirting. She'd told him her favorite flower, color, song, and a lot of other things, all in an attempt to get him to sleep with her. When he wouldn't, she got what she wanted a different way. He still didn't know how she had collected his DNA, and he really didn't want to know.

Besides, what did it matter? The end result, standing here beside him with his head bowed, was worth it.

"Can we go now?" Nathan whispered.

Bruce thought about it. There wasn't much he had to say to her, that he hadn't already said in January. "I guess so. If you're done here."

"I am. She never really talked to me, you know, before, so I . . . I don't know what to say to her."

"That's okay. Just say whatever feels comfortable. Or don't say anything; you don't have to if you don't want to. It's okay."

"I guess . . . she knows what I want to say to her. So I won't. Now can we go?"

"All right."

Nathan looked over his shoulder as they walked back to the waiting taxi. "Bye, Mother."

* * *

It was the smallest, and oldest, cemetery in this part of Brooklyn, and it was where Steve Rogers' parents, along with an older brother who'd died in infancy, two years before Steve was born, were buried. It had once been carefully tended, but now it was so crowded by tall buildings that it seemed dark and gloomy, overgrown with weeds. It took Steve some time to find the correct grave site, and when he did, he had to clear away the growth and, unbelievably, a couple of empty beer bottles. What was wrong with people? Didn't they have any respect for the dead?

When he was able to see the stone clearly, he bowed his head in remembrance of the woman who had given him life, who had sat beside him in doctor's offices and held his hand so he wouldn't be scared, who had taught him the Lord's Prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance.

"Mother," he whispered.

And that was all he could say. He did, however, make a vow to himself to come here at least once a month and make sure the place was maintained. And if he ever found out who was drinking beer in the graveyard . . .

But enough of that. He left the flowers he had brought for her, and walked back to where he had parked the bike.

* * *

Across town, Tony was also visiting his mother's final resting place, although she was resting in an elaborate mausoleum rather than a tiny cemetery.

"I know I haven't been here in a while," he began, "but . . . I've been busy. You have no idea—well, maybe you do. I don't know if you really do watch over me from wherever you are, but I hope you're proud. I'm out of the weapons business, for good. I'm saving the world now, instead of equipping those who would destroy it. And . . . I'm not alone.

"I think you'd like my friends. I hope so, anyway. I've finally learned that I can't do everything alone, and it's nice to have someone else watching my back. Especially if that someone is huge, green, and strong enough to bench-press a tank.

"And I'm engaged to a wonderful woman, who's always been there for me, and put up with me even at my worst . . . I don't deserve her. And she knows that, and she still loves me anyway, and that's why I love her." He paused to wipe away the moisture that had collected in the corners of his eyes. "Anyway, that's where my life is now. I'll see you again soon, Mom, okay?" He laid the flowers down and walked away.

* * *

When Bruce and Nathan came home, they found Loki in his favorite spot on the roof. What was unusual was that rather than looking down at the city, as he usually did, he was looking up, to the stars.

"What are you looking at?" Nathan asked.

"Oh!" Loki drew himself up and looked at them. "How was your visit with your mother?"

"Fine. Oh . . . you miss **your** mother, don't you?"

"Thor is bringing her our gift. Do you think she will like it?"

"I think so," said Bruce. "It's very nice."

"I hope she does. I wish I could bring it to her in person, but . . ."

"But . . . still _persona non grata _in Asgard, right?"

"For the moment. Hopefully, Thor will be able to talk them around and convince them to let me come home. He has not my skilled tongue, of course, but he is Odin's favorite son."

"Well, I'm sure that'll make a difference. They have to forgive you eventually."

"I miss my mother terribly. I never blamed her for . . . you know. She only wanted to protect me. She loved me, even knowing what I was . . . even after all I did."

"That's what mothers do," Nathan said. "That's what unconditional love is. I wish I could have kids someday so I could love them like that."

"You mean, you can't?"

"We don't know yet," Bruce explained. "But we don't have to worry about that for a long time. Even if it's not possible for him to have biological children, there are lots of ways to be a family. Look at us. A bunch of misfits, technological wonders, gods, and monsters."

"We don't use the M-word," Nathan reminded him.

"Sorry. But here we are, all different, and we've become a kind of family. So it doesn't matter if we're blood-related or not. Blood doesn't make a family; love does."

"I think my mother would agree with you, Doctor."

"How many times have I told you? Call me Bruce."

"All right, then. Bruce, I think it's time we went inside."

"You're right. Those clouds look pretty threatening." He held the door as the three of them entered the building. "By the way, how did you get the kids to hold still?"

"I promised they could hold my Mjolnir replica. If they were good."

"Bet they had fun with that."

* * *

"Oh, it's lovely." Frigga held the framed photograph in her hands. "And so fine, I cannot even see the brush strokes! How was it done?"

"With a device they call a camera. It captures images and stores them to be called up later. We were able to call it up and transfer it onto the paper."

"Amazing." Her fingers traced over the faces of her sons, and her grandchildren. "Is this your young lady? Jane?"

Thor nodded, smiling. "Yes, that is she."

"And when do I get to meet her?"

"Soon. We are . . . working up to it. Or so she says."

"Very well." She set the picture down on a table. "There should be one for your father, as well."

"That's next month."

"What is?"

"The day honoring fathers. I will return for that one. Perhaps . . . not alone?" Now might be a good time to bring up what he had hoped to discuss. "Mother, is it not time for Loki to be allowed to return to us?"

"That is up to your father."

"But you could speak to him. He will listen to you. He always listens to your counsel."

"This is no simple matter."

"Mother—"

"You know I want to see your brother back with us just as much as you do. But too much has happened for us to simply pretend nothing is wrong. Give it a little while longer. Perhaps by the summertime, your father might change his mind, but for now, it is firmly set, and you know that nothing can persuade him when he's like this. Please, just be patient a little while longer."

"You did not see his face, a month ago, when I told him he couldn't come home. All he wanted was to see his children!"

"And he saw them! You brought them to see him!"

"It is not the same thing! He deserves to be allowed to see his home again!"

"Come here, my son." He went to her, and she took him into her arms, like a child, though he was taller than she was. Her boys would always, no matter how long they lived, be her babies. "I know how unfair it is, but it is not my decision to make. I will, however, speak to him, and try to change his mind. I cannot promise anything, though. Can you be satisfied with that?"

How could he say no? She was his mother, and had always stood by him, no matter what. "Of course, Mother. Thank you for your help."

"Such as it is. Tell me one thing."

"What is it?"

"How did you get the children to sit still long enough to capture this image?"

Thor just laughed. "There was a spot of bribery involved. Believe me, it wasn't easy."

* * *

This wouldn't be easy.

Natasha had spent all day on the move, trying to keep herself distracted from the . . . big news of the day. She had nowhere to be; her parents were long-dead, their graves too far away to visit any time soon. Everyone else was out, but staying alone in the tower would give her too much time to think, and she didn't want to think too much about what was going on.

On the other hand, she had to prepare what she had to say tonight. This issue would have to be dealt with as soon as possible. But that was tonight, and today, she just wanted to get out and enjoy herself on a nice Sunday afternoon.

The first thing she did was go for a run in the park. It had turned out to be a nice day after all, once the rain stopped and the skies cleared up. And physical motion always helped her think.

Everything started off fine, but when she'd gotten a couple of miles into her workout, she suddenly started to feel dizzy. She stepped off the track and sat down on the grass, not even caring that it was still damp, and took deep breaths until her head cleared.

There. She was all right now. When she felt steady enough, she stood up and resumed her run, but she'd lost her original rhythm, and ended up cutting her session short. After only about five miles, she turned around and walked back to the tower.

On the way, she passed a storefront with a display of baby clothes in the window. Where normally she would have passed by without a second thought, today she had reason to stop and give them a look. The little ruffled dresses were so cute! For just a moment, Natasha imagined having a little girl to dress up, to teach ballet, to chase around after.

She hadn't had a family since her parents died.

Could she have one now?

Would he want to?

She reluctantly tore herself away from the window and continued on her way home.

* * *

There was some kind of cookout on the roof in the early evening. "They said it wasn't supposed to be this nice today," Tony said, from his lounge chair between the cooler and the stairwell. "But I said, they're always wrong. That rain will hold off till tomorrow, just because I said so."

"Oh, about **rain** they're wrong," said Pepper. She was sitting on a blanket spread out to the edge of the roof, big enough to hold five or six people comfortably. Or three grown adults plus Nathan, who took up a third of the blanket all by himself.

Steve was manning the grill, a little nervously. "Is this legal? I mean, it's not a fire hazard?"

"Nah, it's fine." Tony reached for another beer, saw Pepper's warning glance, and grabbed a Sprite instead.

"Natasha, are you okay?"

"Huh?" She looked up to see who had spoken.

"I said," Bruce repeated, "are you okay? You look like something's bothering you."

"No, I'm fine." It wasn't his business, anyway. It was between her and Clint—whenever he showed up. He had left early in the morning, without telling anyone where he was going, only leaving a note that said he'd be back by seven. It was six forty-eight now, and she wasn't sure she could wait much longer. Get this over with, as soon as possible.

"Hot dogs are ready!" Steve announced. He loaded them onto a plastic plate and set it down in the middle of the blanket.

"How many can I have?" Nate asked his father.

"Oh, there's plenty," said Tony. "There's lots more food downstairs, when we finish this. Someone can go get it. Loki, you're not busy. You go down and get the extra meat out of the fridge."

The god, who was sitting on the other side of the stairwell by himself, cast a disdainful glance in their direction. "Just because I choose not to join your festivities does not mean I am not busy. As it happens, I was studying." He held up a book with complicated runes on the cover.

"You can do that anytime! Come on, join us!" Nathan begged him.

"No, I have grown too lax in my studies. I need to keep in practice."

"Later! When it gets too dark, you can go in and read! You spend too much time alone! It's not good for you. At least come and sit with us."

"I'm fine over here." The truth was, he didn't dare sit too close to anyone, for fear that they would glance over and discover that the book he was reading was not an ancient spell book, but _The Science of Star Trek_. And while it was, pardon the expression, fascinating, it was not his standard reading material. Thus, the deception.

"I'll get it." Natasha got up slowly; after the episode in the park, she didn't want to take a chance on the dizziness coming back. She made her way to the stairwell, but as she went to put her hand on the door handle, someone opened it for her.

"Let me give you a hand," said Bruce, holding the door for her.

She smiled. "That's okay. I've got it."

"I know how much these folks eat. You won't be able to carry it all up by yourself. Besides . . . I wanted to talk to you."

She looked at him. If it had been anyone else, she would have walked away, but she saw in his eyes that he genuinely wanted to help with whatever was bothering her. "All right. But not till we're downstairs."

"Fair enough."

The access stairwell felt incredibly claustrophobic, though she'd never had a problem with confined spaces before. It was a relief to come out into open space, even if that space was the back door of Tony Stark's penthouse.

The door was unlocked.

"He has all that high-tech security everywhere," she remarked, "and he leaves the back door open."

"I don't think he does normally," said Bruce. "It's okay if it's just us."

"Still, anyone could walk in here. I think we should lock it behind us when we go."

"But what happens if we have to come back for something?"

"Are you telling me the man doesn't have a key to his own back door?"

"I think that's why he left it open."

"Unbelievable." She sighed and went to the fridge. There were six more packages of hot dogs, and five of burgers; she pulled them out and started stacking them on the counter.

"Grab some buns, too."

"What?" She turned and looked at him.

"Rolls, I meant. Hamburger and hot dog rolls," Bruce explained. "I can't seem to find them."

Natasha looked in the fridge, but they weren't there. They weren't in any of the cabinets. She finally found them in a bag beside the couch in the living room. "What a strange place to put them," she remarked, picking up the bag and bringing it to the counter.

"I guess he put them down and forgot about them," said Bruce. "We'll put everything on the tray and bring it up."

"Sounds good to me."

Once all the food had been stacked on the tray, Bruce said, "Okay, now you promised to tell me what's going on."

"It's . . . sort of personal."

"I won't tell anyone. What is it?"

She looked away for just a second, and then she said, "I'm pregnant."

The secret was out now. She waited for his reaction, not sure what she wanted it to be. Happy or sad? She didn't know herself.

To her surprise, Bruce simply asked, "How far along are you?"

"I'm not sure . . . I think about eight or nine weeks. Maybe ten—I'm pretty sure she was conceived while we were in Ireland."

"She?"

"I don't want to call the baby 'it' when I'm not sure what I'm doing yet."

"You haven't told Clint?"

"The second he gets his butt home, I will. I told him it was important."

"What do you think he'll do?"

She sighed. "I don't know. We've always said no strings, no connections. Nothing that can be used against us by an enemy. This . . ."

"This will tie you together forever."

"Yeah, that's about the size of it."

"Is that . . . not what you want? I thought you two were . . . you know . . . close."

"We are. But—it's hard to explain. I don't have the words. In English. I don't suppose you speak Russian?"

"Afraid I don't. Spanish, Portuguese, and Hindi, but no Russian. Not yet. I'm always up for learning something new, though," he said with a smile.

"Maybe later. Once I've figured this whole crazy business out. Once I've talked to Clint and gotten his input on the situation. Give me a few days and then get back to me."

"Sounds good." Bruce grabbed the tray and started for the door, then looked back and noticed she wasn't with him. "You coming?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

She thought of locking the back door, but then decided against it, in case they had to come back for something. But she would recommend that Tony have a new key made.

"I can't tell you what to do," Bruce said, when they were on their way back to the roof, "but I will tell you this: being a father is the best thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"But yours can take care of himself," she pointed out. "You don't have a little life entirely dependent on you for everything."

"True. But that phase doesn't last long."

"Long enough. You know the second Fury hears about this, he'll take me off active duty. Indefinitely. I don't want to let the team down."

"Hey." He looked at her seriously. "Don't worry about us. We can handle it. The health and safety of you and your child come first. Have you been to a doctor yet?"

She shook her head. "Not until I know whether or not I'm . . . going through with this."

"Promise you'll see someone as soon as possible."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure I'll be under orders to have regular medical checkups for as long as it takes."

"You've been known to disobey orders."

"I prefer to think of it as creative interpretation. But about this, I'll stick to the book."

"Good." Nearly at the roof door now, but what she said next stopped him in his tracks.

"What do you think of Bridget for a name, by the way?"

He turned and looked at her. "You're naming her?"

"She was conceived in Ireland. I thought she should have an Irish name."

"Sounds to me like you've made up your mind already."

She sighed. "I thought, for years, that I'd never have children."

"Because of your work?"

"Because of what the Red Room did to me. I didn't think I was the maternal type. But ever since I found out, all I can think about is pink frilly dresses and that sweet baby smell. I want her so badly now, but . . . it's not just my decision to make. She has a father, too."

"Nat, you know what kind of man Clint is. I'm sure he's always wanted a family, too. You talk to him, and the rest of us will be here for you either way. "

"You won't tell them—"

"I won't say a word. Not for me to tell. You make the big announcement, whenever you're ready."

The door leading up to the roof was sticking a bit; he had to turn the knob and then lean his weight against it to get it open. He held it open by leaning back on it while she walked through.

"Thanks," she whispered, and took the tray from him.

"Careful," he said, "that's heavy."

She just laughed. "I think I've got it."

* * *

When Clint finally showed up, giving no excuses for his tardiness, Natasha all but dragged him inside. Nobody but Bruce knew what it was about, and he just shrugged and said that she needed to talk to him.

"Uh oh," said Tony. "Someone's in trouble."

"Not necessarily!" Pepper admonished him. "They just have to talk."

"Yeah, and when you tell me we need to talk, that usually means that I'm in trouble."

"Because you usually are. But we don't know what's going on with them. Maybe it's something good."

"'We need to talk' is **never** something good."

His fiancée rolled her eyes at him. "Only when it's you."

When the two assassins finally reappeared, they seemed . . . contented. Natasha was even smiling.

"Everyone," Clint announced, "we have some great news. We're gonna have a baby!"

There was a great flurry of congratulations and well wishes. Natasha smiled and nodded through it all, and then she slipped away and went to sit next to Bruce.

"I guess you two were on the same page after all," he said.

"He already knew. He found the test in the trash; he was just waiting for me to tell him. He was afraid I'd already . . . you know."

"I think you'll be great parents."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. By the way, how would you feel about being the godfather?"

"I'd be proud," he said, and meant it.

* * *

2. Geek Lessons, part 3

"What is it you learn in these 'geek lessons', brother?" Thor asked. The two of them were in Tony's study, waiting for the genius to finish whatever he and Banner were doing in Laboratory C and join them.

"All sorts of things. I have read wondrous books!"

"Oh, books," Thor snorted derisively. He had no use for books. "What else?"

"We have watched programs of scientific fiction. I have the discs, and we can watch them together later. This month's lesson is supposed to be about geeky music."

"What is a geek?"

"Let's look it up." He sat before the computer and called up the repository of all Midgardian knowledge, Wikipedia. "Here we are: _The word __**geek**__ is a slang term for odd or non-mainstream people, with different connotations ranging from 'a computer expert or enthusiast' to 'a person heavily interested in a hobby', with a general pejorative meaning of 'a peculiar or otherwise dislikable person, esp[ecially] one who is perceived to be overly intellectual'."_

"Ah, I see! They are describing you!"

"What? Which part of that do you think applies to me?"

"Intellectual, of course. As well as interested in a hobby, if one can call your magic a hobby."

"I think of it more as a vocation. A way of life."

"And you are proficient on the computer. I still have trouble telling the magic box what to show me."

"You'll get it. It's not as hard as it looks. Just remember that it only does what you tell it to do. It doesn't have a life of its own."

Thor frowned. "It doesn't?"

"No. Well . . . not the one in your room. Obviously Tony's computers are more . . . advanced."

"When did you start calling him Tony?"

"He asked me to. Why, what do you call him?"

Thor just shrugged.

Whatever they called him, the man joined them a few moments later. "You guys been talking about me behind my back?"

"No," said Thor.

Tony looked insulted. "Why not? The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about. I won't be insulted. Really."

"It wasn't important," said Loki. "What music do you have to share with us today?"

"You guys are in for a real treat. Today we are going to hear the greatest sci-fi rock opus of all time: David Bowie's _Space Oddity_. Sometimes known as "Major Tom," but that was actually a tribute song recorded about a decade or so later by a German singer named Peter Schilling. It's on my Eighties playlist, if you want to hear it."

"How do you spell Schilling?" Loki asked, leaning over a yellow legal pad.

Tony looked over his shoulder. "What are you doing? Are you taking notes? Hey, I can't read this."

"Of course not." The god rolled his eyes. "English is not my native language."

"Are those runes?"

"They are similar."

Tony snatched the pad away from him and flipped pages. "What is all this? There's a lot more here than we covered. Is that my name? What are you writing about me?"

"Nothing!"

"Seriously. What is it?"

"It is private! Give that back!"

"Fine." Tony handed the pad back to him. "I can't read it anyway, except for the names. Any chance of a translation?"

"Not," Loki said darkly, "in your lifetime. Could we possibly continue with the lesson?"

"I would like to see what you have written, brother." Thor tried to get a look at the pad, but Loki held it close to his body. "What is so secret that you cannot show **me**?"

"Why do you care? It's not important! I want to hear this _Space Oddity_, all right?" He tucked the legal pad under his sweater and crossed his arms.

"Okay, fine." Tony was determined to find out the secret of the mysterious yellow legal pad, but now was not the time. He put the disc (it was a real CD, not a playlist) into the player, and they listened for the full forty-five minutes. "So . . . what did you think?"

Thor was wearing his usual puzzled expression; Loki looked thoughtful.

"If you like that, you should check out the follow-up, _Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars_. It's considered a classic of concept rock. I don't have a copy, but you should be able to find it pretty much anywhere. The library might even have it. In fact, I'll make that your homework for this week. Listen to it, give me your impressions. In English, please. I can't read runes."

"Why is this necessary?" Thor asked.

"Because," Tony explained, "there are certain things that the other people going to the Con will know and understand, and they expect everyone else to know and understand them as well. Some of them are pretty basic things that everyone has seen or heard, or read. You don't want to be laughed at, do you?"

"They would dare laugh at the son of Odin?"

Tony actually checked to make sure the big guy didn't have his hammer before he said, "Some of them are just that mean. They probably won't know who you are. The thing about Cons is, lots of people who go dress up as their favorite movie or comic book or anime characters. So they might just think you're a normal person dressed up as a superhero. That's okay, though; the Con is the one place where people can get away with dressing and acting like fictional characters. In fact, you might get a lot of photo requests."

"I . . . don't understand."

"Don't worry about it too much. It's okay to be yourself, but only inside the Con. Out on the street, you might want to tone it down a bit."

Loki started to take out the legal pad to write that down, saw Tony's intense gaze, and put it away again. "You will never get your hands on this, Man of Iron."

"What is it, your secret plan to take over the world or something?"

"You will never know." He smiled smugly as he left the room.

* * *

3. Memorial Day

"Come on, hurry up! It's starting right now!"

Bruce had never seen Tony Stark so excited about something that had nothing to do with science. "Are you recording this?"

"Are you kidding? I've had this set up for a week! He's doing the Fourth of July Spectacular too, right?"

"Far as I know." His phone rang, and he sheepishly answered it. "Hello? Hey, buddy! Yeah, we're watching it. I'll call you back after it's over, okay? I will. Bye, son." He hung up and turned the phone off so it wouldn't disrupt the program.

The others were already gathered in the living room. Thor was balancing a huge bowl of popcorn on his lap, munching and occasionally dropping a few pieces. The cleaning robot hovered next to him, ready to scoop up fallen snacks.

Loki was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a graphic novel in his lap. Tony glanced at it. "_Sandman_, huh? Nice. Have you read any of Gaiman's prose work? It's good stuff."

"Ssh!" Natasha admonished him. "It's starting!"

On the TV, there was a shot of the Capitol building with the caption "National Memorial Day Concert 2013."

"What is this Mem-or-ee-all Day?" Thor asked, around a mouthful of popcorn.

"Watch and learn," was all Tony would say.

The show opened with some young girl singing "The Star-Spangled Banner." She had a nice voice.

"Who is she?" Tony asked.

"I think she won this year's _American Idol_," said Clint. "Not that I watch it, or anything. I read it online somewhere."

"Sure you did."

There were tributes to the Korean War veterans, in honor of the sixtieth anniversary of the end of the war. A famous opera tenor sang "Wind Beneath My Wings," and about halfway through, Bruce heard the sound of soft sobs. He looked over and saw Natasha wiping her eyes.

"Sorry," she said. "Damn hormones. I cry at every little thing now."

"It is pretty moving," he said. "I liked the tribute to the wounded soldier. When his mom stood up and saluted, I thought **I **might lose it. So don't feel bad."

"When does he come on?" Tony asked.

"Must be at the end. Just keep watching."

It was indeed the last ten minutes of the program, when the host, an actor on Nathan's current favorite show, announced, "It's a privilege and an honor to introduce a true patriot. Ladies and gentlemen, Captain America."

And there he was. He looked so small on that big stage, but he knew how to play to the audience. He smiled and waved, and then stepped up to the podium.

"Things have changed a lot in seventy years," he began. "When I was in combat, it took days to get a message across the country. Now, I can instantly message someone on the other side of the world, and get a reply right away. But one thing hasn't changed: the love of Americans for their country, and their willingness to serve.

"Whether on the battlefields of France, the islands of the Pacific, the jungles of Southeast Asia, the deserts of Iraq and Afghanistan, or even right here at home, men and women have given their lives to preserve and defend our freedom. Stand with me now, and show our appreciation."

The whole auditorium stood as one, and applauded. Everyone in the living room stood too, and after an awkward moment, they applauded as well.

"They picked the right person for the job," Tony said. "He really means every word he's saying."

After that, there was the medley of armed services theme songs, and then all of a sudden, it was over. Just like that.

"That's it?" said Clint. "I thought it would be boring, but it wasn't."

"You think anything without a car chase is boring." Natasha got up and headed into the bathroom.

Bruce's phone rang just as he was getting up himself. "Hey. Yeah, it's on again. They repeat it for the folks who came in late and missed the beginning. No, you don't have to watch it again. It was a nice speech, wasn't it?" He waved at the rest of the room and went out the door.

Thor looked around at the few who remained. "What do we do now?"

"Don't you have packing to do?" Loki asked, from his place on the floor.

His brother just smiled at him. "Thank you for offering to help me. I wish you could come along."

"I'll Skype you." He carefully marked his place in the book, stood up in one fluid motion, and the two of them went off to Thor's room to pack.

Tony suddenly found himself alone. "Okay," he said to the empty room. "I guess I'll just hang out here, then."

* * *

4. Late-Night Ice Cream Party

The nightmares didn't come as frequently now as they had in the beginning, but every now and then, he still woke up screaming.

Loki sat up suddenly, trying to catch his breath. In his dreams, he relived every horrible thing the Chitauri had done to break him down, and sometimes when he woke up, he could still feel the ghost of that pain. This time, it was the branding iron against his stomach. He rubbed at the scar, the raised symbol that stung every time he used his magic, and tried to get himself under control.

When several minutes had passed, he wondered why his brother hadn't come in to sit with him, as he always did, and then he remembered that Thor was in New Mexico, visiting Jane. He was alone. On the one hand, he missed the comforting, but on the other . . . Thor snored like a rabid warg. He wouldn't have gotten any sleep anyway.

Since he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, Loki got up out of bed and went to the kitchen to look for some comfort food. The cabinets were almost bare. Even his supply of Pop Tarts was down to one, and that was best saved for the morning. Well, breakfast time, anyway.

Wait, wasn't there the last of a carton of ice cream, hidden in the back of the freezer where Thor would never find it? (And why didn't the big oaf buy his own ice cream?)

But the freezer failed to yield its stash of icy goodies. Not even that raspberry gelato that he'd bought by accident remained. What was he to do now?

_Stark has plenty of ice cream. Three or four cartons full. I saw it tonight, after dinner. See, it pays to help clean up._

He went up the stairs rather than using the elevator, and then around to the fire escape and through the unlocked bathroom window. It would be hard to explain, if he were caught, just how he had gotten in, but he didn't have the code for the main door, and he didn't want to wake the man up just for some ice cream.

_Please let it be there . . ._

He snuck into the kitchen, quietly opened the freezer, and saw three of the four cartons right there, towards the front, tempting him. Hmm, which one first? Chocolate marshmallow? Peanut butter cup?

"I prefer the Chocolate Nut Cluster, myself," said a voice from the doorway.

_Busted._

Loki turned slowly, his hand still on the freezer door. "I'm sorry I woke you up-"

"Oh, I was awake. I heard you screaming. Nightmares?"

"It's the same one, every time."

"In a dark place, being tortured over and over again. Screaming till you think your lungs will burst, but they won't let up, won't leave you alone, and after a while you start praying for death, just so this will stop, but it never stops."

The god looked surprised. "How do you know all this?"

"You think you're the only one who has nightmares?"

Loki said nothing.

"Pick one and close the door before everything melts, will you?"

"You . . . don't mind?"

Tony just laughed. "I was just coming to get some myself. Don't tell Pepper."

"She won't wake up and notice you gone?"

"Nah, she sleeps like a rock. Chocolate Marshmallow's good. Let's go with that one."

"Okay." He took it out and set it on the counter while the billionaire assembled bowls, spoons, and his favorite heated ice cream scoop. He dished it out, in big heaping mounds, and then the two of them sat at the bar, spooning the heavenly goodness into their mouths.

After a while, Tony said, "So, you want to talk about it?"

Loki thought about it. "If I do," he began, "you don't mention a word of this to any of the others."

"My lips are sealed."

"Except for Thor. He already knows."

"He comes running whenever you have bad dreams?"

"I've told him he doesn't need to, that I'm all right, but he insists on staying with me until I fall asleep. However long it takes. Usually he falls asleep before I do. And takes up the entire bed."

"I hate bed-hoggers. Oh, not Pepper. She keeps on her side. But I've had some real acrobats in that bed-literally, once. She was with the circus-"

"Enough!" Loki held up a hand. "I really didn't want to know."

"Fine. You want some more?"

"Just a little."

This time, Tony only filled the bowls halfway. "You know what would be great with this?"

"What?"

"Chocolate sauce."

Loki's eyes became huge. "Oh, yes," he murmured, almost orgasmically.

"Too bad I don't have any."

"What? But you-That was mean!"

Tony just shrugged. "A little. But you have to admit, you do feel better, don't you?"

Loki thought about it. "A little, yes. Could I have my ice cream now, please?"

"Wow, you actually said please. That doesn't happen very often." Tony brought the bowls over and sat down. "You've changed, Frosty. You're not the same guy you were last year."

"Considering that I was under alien mind control at the time, I should hope not."

This made Tony laugh, although the way that Loki looked at him made him feel that he shouldn't have. "I'm sorry, I just . . . you were such a dick, and now you seem more like a real human being. That's not an insult-I mean it in terms of behavior, rather than biology. I . . . I like you, Lokester. You have weird taste in music, and even weirder taste in movies-_Jaws_ is not a comedy, by the way-but I like you."

"And I like you, Tony Stark. Even though you're an insufferable prat at times, you do have a heart. I admire you. And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I will kill you."

"There's the Loki we know and love." His spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl; was it gone already? "Want any more? I'm done."

"No. Thank you. I have had enough."

"You're welcome to sleep on my couch, if you don't want to be all alone for the rest of the night."

"No, that's all right. I think . . . I think I can manage by myself. See you at breakfast."

"Just put your bowl in the sink. I'll take care of it."

"All right." He did so, but he rinsed it out first. "Won't Pepper see the bowls in the dishwasher and wonder what they're doing there?"

"Oh, she knows I'm up till all hours. She just doesn't know with whom. It's fun to keep her guessing." Tony picked up his own bowl and carried it to the sink. Loki took that as his cue to leave.

His bedroom was dark, and cold, but somehow, he didn't feel so alone anymore. And though he thought he'd lie there for a long time awake, he dropped off right away. And had only pleasant dreams.


	9. June

JUNE

1. Fifty Shades of Green

Every woman on the bus seemed to be reading one book.

Loki was on his way to an appointment when he noticed the odd coincidence. He was always interested in what other people were reading, and often chose books from the library (or from Amazon) based on others' recommendations.

Every single woman sitting around him, plus two that were standing, seemed to be engrossed in a thick book with a grayscale cover. He had to know what this book was.

"Excuse me," he said to the woman beside him. "Sorry to disturb you, but I just have to ask you: what is that book you're reading? It looks fascinating."

"What? Oh, um . . ." She looked up at him. "Do I know you?"

"I don't think so. This is a popular book? Everyone seems to have it."

"_Fifty Shades of Grey_."

"Is that the title?"

"You've never heard of it?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Well, I suppose it's more of a woman's book . . ."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's kind of—I don't know, steamy, I guess. There's some pretty explicit scenes, I've heard. I'm only on page 20 right now, so I haven't gotten to the sexy part yet."

"Is it good? I realize I'm asking you to base your opinion on twenty pages, but what do you think of it so far?"

"I love it. I can't put it down."

"I won't keep you from it any longer, then. Thank you for your time." His stop was coming up, anyway. He got up and made his way to the front of the bus, in preparation for disembarking. On the way, he counted the number of people who were reading the book. There were seven in the front half of the bus alone, and when he turned back for a moment to count the rear half, he saw five more.

Twelve women on one bus were reading the same book. It must be good, then. He'd have to stop by the bookstore on his way home.

He was so lost in his plans that he missed his stop and had to walk back from the next one. But he passed a small book shop that had the book displayed prominently in the window, so that was a small silver lining.

The moment he brought the book back to his rooms, he had to open it and find out what was so intriguing about this novel that twelve women on the bus were so obsessed with it. But he refused to let anyone see him with this book, so he read it in the privacy of his own rooms, with the door locked and the television blaring to detract attention, in case anyone walked by and heard him turning a page.

Okay. Time to begin. He opened the book to the first page and started reading.

Some time later, he became aware of someone hammering on his door. (Not literally, of course; Mjolnir would have completely destroyed the door.) It sounded as if it had gone on for some time. Reluctantly, he set the book aside, got up, and went to find out who wanted him so badly.

"About time!" Tony grumbled, as soon as the door opened a crack. "What are you so involved with, that you can't hear me calling you?"

"Nothing," Loki said hastily. "Nothing at all."

"Well, if there's any dinner left, you're welcome to it. Might have to heat it up, though."

"I know how to operate the microwave."

"Fine. You can get back to whatever it is that's so fascinating after you eat. I don't care if you do or not, myself, but your brother will kill me if he thinks I'm starving you."

"I am capable of finding food on my own," Loki said haughtily. He checked to make sure that his key card was in his pocket, and then hastily pulled the door shut before Stark could get a look inside the room.

He went and ate whatever food was there, not really noticing it, as fast as he could so he could get back to the book. He didn't even rinse his dish before jamming it into the dishwasher and hurrying back to his room.

He did turn the TV down a bit, though, so he would hear it if someone came to the door. Or if the fire alarm went off, which had only happened once so far, but could very easily happen again, given his brother's ineptitude with Midgardian technology.

And then the next time he looked up from the book, it was one o'clock in the morning. He wasn't the least bit tired, but he knew that if he didn't get to bed now, there was no way he'd be up at a decent hour in the morning. So he tucked the bookmark in between pages 198 and 199 (yes, he read that fast), changed into his nightclothes, and turned out the lights.

The moment he opened his eyes in the morning, he reached for the book. It was exactly as the woman on the bus had said: the book was impossible to put down.

It was incredibly bad, but impossible for him to put down.

How paradoxical.

Or maybe not. Part of the reason he kept reading was the hope that the book would get better, further along. So far, it hadn't, but the hope persisted, and probably would until the last terrible page.

And then there were two other books in the series. Did he have to read those, as well?

Was there any question? He had already ordered them from Amazon. He simply could not rest until the saga was complete, however long that took. Days . . . weeks . . . certainly not much more than that, at the speed that he read.

And the book was so terrible.

And he just could not stop reading.

But he didn't want anyone to know.

It was when he was about three-quarters of the way through the book that he had his epiphany. He sat up suddenly (he was sitting on his bed, leaning back against the headboard) and declared, "Odin's beard, **I** can write better than this!"

_So?_ a little voice inside his head asked him. _Why don't you?_

It was not something that had ever occurred to him before, but now that he thought about it, it seemed like a good idea. All he needed was a lot of spare time—which he had!—and a place to write his book—right here was good!—and a word processing program—which was built into the computer in the corner, how fortunate! He had no idea how to use it yet, but it couldn't be that difficult, could it?

After accidentally deleting his novel for the third time, he decided to seek out someone who knew how to work this infernal contraption.

"What do you want me to do?" Bruce asked.

"Just show me how to start the writing program. If I can get into that, I can take it from there." Loki sat before the computer, staring at the start-up screen, waiting for instructions.

"Okay. The first thing you want to do is to click the Word icon. See the blue and white W up in the corner there?"

"I see it."

"Double click on that, and that should open the program."

"Left button or right?"

"Left. Unless I tell you to right-click, assume it's the left button."

"All right. Or left, as the case may be."

Bruce pulled back a bit and gave the God of Mischief an odd look. "Was that a joke?"

"Why? Was it not funny?"

"No, it's just . . . weird, coming from you. No offense or anything. Okay, so now you're on a blank page. So just start typing. When you're done, just click the Save icon up on the top bar." He indicated a blue square up in the left-hand corner. "But not until you're ready. And make sure you don't close the program before you save everything. I think that's what you did wrong before."

"You may be right."

"If you need help, just click the Help link up here." He indicated something in the upper-right corner. "And I'll be around if you need anything. Just call me."

"Thank you, Doctor. Hopefully all will go well—"

"So here you are, brother!" a familiar voice boomed. Loki buried his face in his hands and groaned. Just what he needed right now.

"Yes," he said, his voice muffled slightly. "What is it?"

"I missed you! You have not been present for our weekly games of the video! In fact, I have not seen you in days! Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you, Thor. I have just been . . . busy."

"Doing what?"

"If you must know, I am trying to write a novel."

"Oh. Why?"

"Why? Because . . ." Actually, he couldn't think of a good reason why. "Because I want to."

"Can you not write this novel with me? I can help you! Oh, what does this button do?" He started to click something, but Loki slapped his hand away.

"No! Don't touch that! I'll let you see it when I'm finished, but while I'm writing, I would like some privacy, please."

"Does this mean no games of the video?" Thor looked at him with an expression of utter despair. It was enough to make Loki weaken just slightly.

"All right. I will come out to play video games once a week. But the rest of the time, I need to write."

"Do you not need to eat as well?"

"I suppose. Fine, then, I will come out for meals and games, but the rest of the time, I need to have some privacy so that I can write. And I promise you, the moment I am finished, I will let you read it. But not before! Now please leave me in peace!"

Thor's expression now resembled a puppy that had been scolded for leaving a mess on the carpet. Bruce felt he should say something.

"I'll play with you, big guy, okay? I've got a few hours I can spare. I'll even buy you some pizza."

"With all the toppings?"

"With anything you want. Okay? Let's leave Truman Capote here in peace to create his bestseller."

"Was that a joke, Doctor?" Loki raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Why, was it not funny?" He was smiling as he put an arm around Thor (well, partway around Thor) and they left the room together.

Finally, some peace and solitude. Loki stared at the blank document in front of him and wondered where to begin. At the beginning seemed the most logical place, but where did his story begin?

What kind of story did he want to write?

Begin at the beginning. All right.

_I always knew I was different from the other children I grew up with, but I never knew why. Not until I met **her**._

_Her name was_

And now he was stuck for a name for his fictional love interest. Well, there were lots of name generators on the Internet. All he had to do was find one.

A few clicks later, he decided to call her Nina. It just felt right.

_Nina, and she first came to my attention when I visited my brother in his new apartment. He was in 12A; she lived in 13C, one floor above. She was bringing her trash down just as I was bringing up the last of the large boxes._

_"Moving in?" she said._

_"Helping my brother," I told her. I regarded her as she stood there, blocking the stairwell. Her dark hair_

No, that wouldn't do for a romantic novel. They always referred to the female's hair as "raven locks" or "chocolate tresses," though Loki wasn't sure why being compared to a bird or a food item was a compliment. On second thought, best to keep it simple.

_Her dark hair was pulled back from her face and secured in a green elastic band. She wore only a sweatshirt with the name of a major university on it, and jeans which were just tight enough to hug all of her curves in just the right way, but on her, the weekend clothes looked sexier than a bikini. Even her old scuffed sneakers were attractive, because they were part of her._

No, no, no! That was awful! He deleted the last two sentences and started again.

_I could tell from her attire, a university sweatshirt, jeans, and old sneakers, that she was settled in for an afternoon of household chores. For some reason, I wanted to stick around and help her out, but my help was already promised to my brother. "Do you mind?" I said, shifting the box from one side of my body to the other._

_"What? Oh." She flattened herself against the wall so that I could get by. "Sorry about that. These stairs are narrow, aren't they?"_

_"It's an old building. They tend to have narrow stairways." I would have said anything to keep her there, to drink in the sight of her like_

Why was he doing this? Lapsing into this flowery language all of a sudden? It was that damned book, wasn't it? The clumsy and overly complicated language had influenced him without him even realizing it, and it would only get worse. It was a scary thought: in trying to improve upon the writing style of the original, he had ended up imitating it.

Well, he was almost done with the book now. He would put it away-or better yet, read a **good **book-before continuing with this novel.

But before he could stop himself, he picked it up, opened it to the last place he had left off, and didn't close it again until he had finished the last page. It was nearly two in the morning, and he thought he might have missed dinner, but he wasn't particularly hungry, so he just went to bed, hoping that in the morning, he would be inspired to write more.

* * *

2. Somewhere Only We Know

_I can __**not **__believe I'm doing this._

Loki sat on the floor, on a mat woven from some kind of vegetable fiber, and it was not as comfortable as it looked. He stretched his legs out in front of him and waited for Banner to arrive. The man was supposed to be teaching him that technique for talking to his "other self".

_As if I care about anything he would have to say! All he knows how to do is destroy things._

Presently the doctor arrived, carrying several things under his arms. One was a mat of his own. He also had a small music player, a selection of pastel-colored candles, and a lighter. He arranged the candles in a circle around them, lit them in turn, and then turned on the music player. The sound that filled the room was rhythmical and without words.

"What is all this?" Loki asked.

"Well, this is just for the mood," Banner explained. "You don't really need the candles and the music, but I find that it helps. It's all about what works for you. If you find, in your own practice, that you can do without it, that's fine. Now just find a comfortable sitting position."

"Could we possibly trade mats? Yours looks more comfortable than mine. These twigs are digging into my back."

"Oh, sure." He got up, and they switched places. "Better?"

"Much."

"Okay, we'll begin when you're ready."

"What do I have to do?"

"Just sit. Listen to the music. Turn your thoughts inward. Reach deep down, into the innermost part of yourself . . ."

"This really is silly."

"I'm sorry, I thought it would help."

"All right, I'll try." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, smelling the sweet scent of the candles. In a few moments, he became completely relaxed.

"Okay," Bruce said softly, trying not to distract him, "when you're ready, you can begin building your Quiet Place. It can be inside, or outside, any place you feel secure and can't be disturbed."

"How do I . . . build it?"

"Just imagine it in your mind. Try to see it in every detail."

Loki thought of his favorite spot on the palace grounds, in the courtyard under a tree that was set back a distance from the main path. He tried to feel the grass beneath him, smell the fragrance of flowers on the wind, hear the distant voices of people going about their daily business. "All right. What next?"

"There's another seat in this place. Imagine a seat that will hold him. Make a place for him, before you let him in."

That was easy enough. He imagined a light blue cushion on the grass, directly across from him. The vision was so clear that he started worrying that Mum would be mad at him for taking one of her best cushions outside on the ground. Then he remembered that this wasn't real, and the vision wavered a bit around the edges.

"What do I do now?"

"Once you've made a safe and secure place for him . . . go ahead and invite him in."

"I'm not sure I want to."

"Just keep reminding yourself that you're in a safe place. The door is closed; no one will come in and bother you."

"We're outside, actually."

"All right, then there's a bubble around you. A big bubble of one-way glass. You can see out, but no one else can see you. No one else can intrude. It's just the two of you. No one can hear what you say to each other. Whenever you're ready."

"I'm not sure I'll ever be ready."

"If it gets too intense for you, you can just pop the bubble and come back here. Don't be afraid. You're in control, not him. He does what you want."

"I don't want him to do anything but go away."

"That's not going to happen. You can start by asking him what he wants. Hopefully he'll tell you, and you can work from there."

"All right, I'll try." He concentrated, and then imagined his blue twin sitting on the cushion opposite him. It was difficult at first, but he began to see the Jotun more clearly.

He was wearing a long white tunic and tan leggings. His feet were bare. His legs were crossed in front of him, his arms behind him supporting him. And the expression on his face was . . . not as terrible as Loki had expected. He appeared merely annoyed, not murderous.

"He's here."

"So talk to him."

"How?"

"You can start by giving him a name. It's easier to deal with the other if we can call him by name."

Loki nodded, studying the face of his darker half. "Lone," he said, the name coming to him in an instant. "You are Lone."

"I am Lone." The voice was like his, but with a flat inflection and no warmth at all. "What do you want from me?"

"I just want to talk."

"So talk."

"I want us to . . . get along. We have to share a body, and it will be so much easier if we're not fighting each other. What . . . what would you like me to do, to make life easier for you?"

At first he thought Lone wouldn't answer; he just stared at him in silence. Then the Jotun said, "Stop watching the cartoons."

"I like cartoons."

"You are a warrior, not a twelve-year-old girl!"

"What would you have me watch, then?"

He seemed to be thinking about it. "I like the one with the two men and the monsters."

"All right. More _Supernatural_, less _My Little Pony_. Thor will be disappointed."

"Is he not a warrior as well?"

"Yes, but he likes the ponies. And he likes for me to watch it with him."

Lone nodded. "All right. You can have your together time. But you have not been practicing enough."

"What do you mean? I come to all the team practices whether I want to or not!"

"Your magic. How often have you practiced that?"

"Well, I . . . I don't really have time . . ."

"Spend less time with the magic box and more time doing what you do best."

"I . . . all right." He could condense his explorations on the Internet into one or two hours, and free up some time for spell practice. "What else?"

"You waste a lot of time doing unimportant things."

"Like what?" Loki asked, trying not to sound defensive.

"Watching these . . . entertainments. Have you forgotten how to read?"

"I read! I read all the time!"

"Read more, watch less."

Loki nodded. "Done." He still hadn't finished _100 Classic Science Fiction Short Stories_, anyway. "If I do all of these things for you . . . what will you do for me?"

"I have to do something for you?"

"It's supposed to be mutually beneficial. Otherwise, I have no incentive to do what you want me to."

Lone raised an eyebrow. "What can I possibly do for your benefit?"

"Well . . . you could . . . I don't know, actually, but I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Yes, I'm sure you will." Was he **sneering **at his other half? "May I go now?"

"Of course. We will talk again, soon."

"Don't rush back on my account." He got up and began walking away. Loki counted backwards from ten, and then opened his eyes.

Banner was smiling at him. "How was it?"

"I hate him."

"What?"

"He's arrogant, ambitious, and cruel. And yet . . . he has as much right to live as I do. It may take a while, but we will find a way to work together."

"At least he's intelligent. You can talk to him without sounding like a kindergarten teacher."

"What is kin-der-gar-ten?"

"The earliest level of our education, for four-year-olds. Well, I was four. I think a lot of the other kids were five, but they placed me early. Anyway, you should practice this, with or without him, a few times a week. Just find a quiet moment when you don't have anything else to do, and drop down inside to your Quiet Place."

"I'd rather not deal with him any more than I have to."

"I know. I felt the same way, when I started. But ignoring the problem won't make it go away. Sometimes you have to face your fears head-on, and when you do that, you'll find that maybe they're not so big and scary after all."

"How did you gain his trust? Your Other Half, I mean."

"I figured out that all he wanted to do was protect me." Banner was putting out the candles using a long brass rod with an inverted cone on the end. "The first thing I did was thank him for keeping me safe all these years. I think he was so shocked that he didn't know what else to do. Then I asked him what I could do for him."

"Yes, he had some ideas on that. Less television and more reading, he said."

"Everyone can do with a little less TV time." He pressed the STOP button on the music player, and unplugged it. "That's not so bad."

"It was the way he said it. Like he thought I was wasting my time, being stupid and useless. And that means that deep down, **I **think I'm stupid and useless."

"Everyone does battle with the self-loathing beast now and then. Some of us more than others."

Loki recognized the reference. "I remember that program!"

"Then you remember how they beat the self-loathing beast."

"Yes. With . . ." He almost didn't want to speak the word. "With love."

"Every time he gets to you, every time you start feeling useless and a waste of life, remember how many people love you. Your brother. Your parents. Your children. All of us here. Darcy," he added with a grin.

"Of course. You're right. How did you get to be so wise?"

"Been a lot of places, seen a lot of things. Do you mind? I want to roll up the mats and put them away."

"Oh, sure." He stood up, and Banner bent down and rolled up the mat and tucked it under his arm.

"By the way, how's that novel coming?"

"Novel?"

"The one you were writing on the computer?"

"Oh, that. It's not, at the moment. I'm afraid I gave up on it."

"Well, you can always go back to it. Or start another one. Can you get the CD player?"

"The what?"

He gestured toward the music player, and Loki picked it up, winding the cord around his arm so he wouldn't trip on it. "Where does this go?"

"I'll take it once I put the mats back." He dropped both mats into individual slots in a grid along the wall. There were two or three other mats, and one of them was Loki's favorite shade of green.

"I want that one next time."

"I don't know whose that is. I'm not sure who else uses this room, but it was here before I got here, so someone must. We can ask around and find out if they don't mind you borrowing it."

"Why not just use it when they're not here?"

"What if it's Natasha? And she finds out?"

Loki had to admit, he had a point. Everyone in the tower, though most of them wouldn't admit it, was a little bit afraid of the Russian assassin, who often boasted that she could kill a man in five seconds with nothing but a bent paper clip and a rolled-up sticky note.

"All right, then, we'll ask." And just to prove that he wasn't anything like the proud, arrogant Lone, he made a point of saying thank you to Banner for taking the time to show him this meditation.

"You're welcome." Banner turned off the light and then closed the door to the small room. "Now, both of you: play nice."

* * *

3. The Smash Room

"Come on," Tony said. "You're gonna love this."

Bruce wasn't so sure, but he followed the other man down the maze of corridors, to a door he had passed many times but never thought to ask what was inside.

There was a shiny new nameplate on the door. "The Smash Room? What's that?" Bruce asked. Then he saw the smaller plaque underneath it: PROPERTY OF DR. BRUCE BANNER. "What is this, another lab?"

"Not exactly. Come on inside." He slid a special, green-edged card through the slot, and the door slid open smoothly. "This is yours, by the way. Keep it somewhere that won't get ripped to shreds when you change."

"I haven't had an incident in a while."

"Well, that's why we're here. I had this whole floor converted for you. Note all the open space. The high ceilings. The eight-inch titanium walls." He knocked on one, producing a booming sound.

"What is this, a time-out room for . . . for him?"

"Not exactly. More like a playground. Come over this way, and you'll see why I call it the Smash Room."

He led Bruce to a part of the space where old, broken tech was piled almost to the ceiling. "This is all junk," he explained. "Stuff that doesn't work. Stuff that never worked in the first place. Stuff that's out of date, or obsolete. The upshot is, it's all stuff that he can smash the hell out of, and have a good time."

"So it's like a training area?" Bruce looked around at the piles of electronics, some of which had wires dangling or pieces missing.

"You can call it that, if you want. The point is, you can bring him down here once or twice a week, let him loose, and hopefully it should reduce the chances of an accidental . . . um, incident."

"You've reinforced the floor, too, I hope," Bruce said, tapping with his foot.

"That's why we're on the ground floor. I know he likes to jump around. Don't want to bring the whole building down. Yep, titanium layered on top of concrete. He's not breaking through that without a fight."

"You did all this . . . for me?"

Tony slung an arm around his shoulders. "Of course I did this for you! I know how worried you are about him breaking through at the worst possible time, so . . . this should keep him happy. He gets to break stuff, doesn't bother you so much, and that keeps you happy, too. Win-win situation, all the way."

"Okay. I'll try it later. I want to bring some extra clothes down."

"Right. Oh, let me show you this." He grabbed Bruce by the hand and practically dragged him over to a corner with traffic cones and tackling dummies set up. "This is the sparring corner. I figured maybe Nate or Thor or somebody could go a few rounds with him, just to get in some practice. Kind of like training, I guess. Since you won't let him work with the team, this is as good as it's gonna get."

"Wow. I don't know what to say." Bruce looked around and took note of his surroundings. "This is great. It must have cost you a bundle to set all this up."

Tony just shrugged. "SHIELD paid for it, actually. When I explained that he needed a training facility, they brought some guys in to do all this. Now, is there anything else you think it needs? Anything at all?"

Bruce thought about it. "Lockers," he said. "To put my clothes in, so I won't rip them when I change."

"That's a good idea. I'll get right on that."

"And a creative corner. A place where he can cool down and do some painting. He likes to paint."

"He **paints**?"

"Finger-paints, mostly. So, some really big paper, and big pots of paint. Purple is his favorite. And maybe some modeling clay; he can squish it around and pound on that. I used to love to squish Play-Doh."

"Right. So, an Arts and Crafts corner."

"He's not a mindless beast, Tony. He just never gets a chance to do anything but smash stuff. We need to nurture his softer side, to bring balance. Otherwise, he'll stay angry."

"Fine. I guess you know him better than I do. All right, I'll make some calls. You want to bring him out, to try this place out?"

Bruce looked around. "Not now. Maybe this weekend, when Nathan gets out of school. You sure it's okay for him to stay here?"

"It's more than okay. He's family."

"He wanted to stay at the school all summer—some of the kids do—but I thought he'd be better off here. Half his stuff is already here anyway."

"Maybe we could put something in here for him. An obstacle course, or something."

"I'll let him decide. Once he gets a look at the place, he can say if he needs anything. He might like it just the way it is."

"Okay, then. Hopefully I'll have those improvements done for you by the end of the week, and then you can come down and let him loose."

"But not **too **loose, though."

"Loose enough to have fun. Cause he's part of the team, too, and I take care of my team."

"You sure do." Bruce took one last look around, tucked the entry card into his pocket, and headed for the elevator.


	10. Comic-Con Special Edition

_(Author's note: I've never been to Comic-Con, so I may have gotten some things wrong. Hope you enjoy it anyway! The regular July update will be up sometime next week.)_

* * *

**Sunday afternoon**

"Wow, you guys are back early," Natasha said, as Tony, Bruce, and Loki stepped off the elevator. "What, did you get kicked out?"

Loki gave her a look that would have melted stone. "I do not want to talk about it!" he spat.

"Where's your helmet?"

"I lost it! I will be in my room. Do not disturb me." He stomped off, not even bothering to collect his luggage first, and slammed a door in the distance.

"What **happened**?" She stared after him, then at the other two, waiting for an explanation.

"I'll tell you later," said Tony. "It . . . didn't go well."

"And by 'didn't go well,' you mean . . ."

"You really don't want to know," said Bruce. He was holding a plastic Darth Vader helmet in his hands, almost absently, as if he had forgotten it was there. His suitcase sat at his feet, held together with two pieces of twine tied around it.

"Were you attacked? Why didn't I hear about this?"

"No—well, yes, but . . ." For once, Tony seemed to be at a loss for words. "Not like you think. We'll talk about it in a bit. Come on, Darth."

Natasha watched them wander off in the direction of their respective rooms and wondered just what the hell had happened.

There was something on the floor, that must have fallen out of the suitcase. She picked it up. "These boys and their toys," she said, and tossed the thing in the trash.

Sunday morning

The plane ride home was about as tense as a Saudi at a bar mitzvah. No one was speaking to anyone else. It was not exactly the aftermath of Comic-Con that Tony had pictured, but then, things had gone so wrong that it was a miracle that they had come out of it in one piece.

"Look, I'm sorry about the-" he began, but Loki turned on him with a look of pure anger.

"Do not speak to me. This is all your fault!"

"My fault? How is it my fault?"

"You are the one who brought me here in the first place! I could have been on a beach, soaking up solar radiation, but instead, I let you drag me to this . . . this place of insanity!"

"You begged me to bring you!"

Bruce turned up the volume on his headphones, vowing to stay out of it.

"Why did I want to come with you in the first place?"

"Because you wanted to be with the smart people."

"I expected intellectuals who engaged in high-level philosophical discussions, not . . . what happened! That was the worst experience of my life!"

"Come on. Worse than giving birth to a horse?"

"I told you, that never happened!"

It had all gone so well-until the second day of the Con. When **they** had found him. It had unquestionably been the worst experience of Loki's long life. Worse than being exiled. Worse than being magically controlled by an alien race. Even worse than having everyone think that he gave birth to a horse.

"I am never," he pronounced darkly, "going back there again."

* * *

**Saturday night**

"Did we lose them yet?" Loki took off his helmet and peered around the corner.

"Not yet." Tony had shed his Iron Man suit, and then, realizing that he would be just as recognizable as himself, had jammed a Darth Vader helmet on his head. Bruce, who did not have such identity problems, was trailing along behind them in a Doctor Who shirt and sweatpants with the Buffy logo on them.

There was a sudden blur of motion as someone ran up and snatched Loki's helmet off the floor.

"Hey!" he shouted, but didn't dare go after the thief for fear of exposing himself and bringing them down on him again.

"How do we get out of here?" Bruce asked.

Tony looked over his shoulder. "There's no cover between here and the door. We'll need a distraction."

Bruce sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just lead them away from us so that we can get outside and wait for you at the hotel."

"Yes, but how?"

Tony removed the Darth Vader helmet and stuck it on Bruce's head. "Go, go, go!"

The minute he started running, the other two were up and moving in the other direction, running for their lives. If these fearsome creatures caught them . . . it would be the end of life as they knew it.

They didn't stop running till they reached the hotel, and even then, they stayed just long enough to pack and wait for the shuttle to the airport. They were in such a hurry to leave that they almost forgot Bruce, who caught up with them just as the shuttle arrived.

"We're leaving now?" he asked. "But what about meeting Barnicle Boy?"

Loki just gave him a look. "I will never forgive you—either of you—for subjecting me to this—this torment! I never want an experience like this again in my life!"

"Oh, come on!" said Tony. "You were having fun until . . . they showed up."

"Where is that damn shuttle bus? They might catch up to us!"

"They're miles away! They'll never find us!"

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Loki looked over his shoulder and saw a pack of the horrid creatures in pursuit. Luckily, the shuttle was also on its way, and reached them first. They hastily climbed aboard the bus and ordered the driver, "Go! Hurry!"

"Sure," the man said. "What's after you? Zombies? Gang members?"

"Worse," said Loki. "Fangirls."

One of the faster ones had already reached the bus and climbed aboard just as the doors were closing. "Lokiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" she squealed, trying to get closer to him. The god retreated to the very back corner of the bus.

"Back, foul beast!" Tony picked up the closest heavy-looking object, which happened to be Bruce's suitcase, and waved it between them in an attempt to ward her off. The suitcase flew open, scattering dirty clothes and souvenirs everywhere. "Whoops! Sorry about that, Beebs." He tried to pick all the stuff up while simultaneously holding off the raging fangirl, who was now emitting squeals so high that even dolphins would have had trouble hearing them.

"If I give you my shirt," Loki said suddenly, "will you go away?"

That got her attention. "The one you're wearing? The one that has touched your lovely pale skin?"

"Um, okay." He lifted it over his head, trying to keep it right-side-out, and tossed it to her.

"Oh em gee! Can I have a picture?"

"Of what?"

"Of you! Just like that—hold it!" She whipped out her cell phone and took five pictures in rapid succession before clutching the shirt to her chest and departing the bus via an open window.

"What just happened?" Bruce asked.

"I'm not sure." Tony was bent over, picking up all the stuff that had fallen out of Bruce's suitcase. "Why him? Why is **he** the one who gets all the attention?"

"Are you telling me that you're jealous because you don't have a legion of rabid fangirls chasing you around?" Bruce gave his best friend a dubious look. "You really want that?"

"Well, no, but . . . I'm just curious. What is it about him that has them all going gaga over him?"

"I have no idea. Who knows the mind of a crazed fangirl?"

Loki just sat in the back of the bus, shirtless, hating them both.

* * *

**Saturday afternoon**

"I thought that went rather well," Tony said. "In spite of the fact that I didn't find out what I would be talking about until five minutes before being seated on the panel."

"You were very good," said Bruce.

"Why aren't you wearing your costume?"

"Because it's heavy, and it's hot, and I don't need it. It was cool to make an entrance in, but right now, I'm better off without it. No offense."

Tony just shrugged. "Eh, it didn't look right on you anyway. So where should we go next?"

Bruce looked around. "Where's Loki?"

"Probably at the Marvel booths again. You know they're doing a comic book based on us? The team, I mean."

"Really?"

"He doesn't like the way they're portraying him. Says they make him look fat. Or something."

"You think they'll listen to him?"

"Who knows? They probably think he's just another fanboy playing dress-up. They'll probably humor him for a while, and then get rid of him. And then he's our problem again."

"Guess who I just met over by the DVD vendors?" Loki had found them, already.

"We give up," said Tony. "Who?"

"Nathan Fillion! He signed my copy of _Serenity_ for me! I was telling him all about how they should bring _Firefly _back in some form, even if it's a comic book, and he said that Joss had some ideas about that, but he couldn't talk about it. I wonder what he meant?"

"That's good news," said Bruce. "I subscribe to his Twitter feed; I'll keep an eye on it for you."

A girl in cat ears and a _Logan's Run _T-shirt approached them. "Oh my God," she said. "I love your helmet! It looks so real!"

"It is real. It was hand-made by the finest goldsmiths in Asgard."

She tittered. "Oh, right. Can't break character. Is the cape real too?"

"Want to touch it?"

"Don't encourage them!" Tony hissed into his ear. "You'll be hip-deep in fangirls before we make it to the end of the hall!"

"Don't I have a responsibility to my public?" the god whispered back. "Go on," he said to the girl. "You can if you want to."

She reached out a hand and ran it along the edge of his cape, making little oohing and aahing noises. "It's so silky! I could wrap myself up in this, and nothing else."

"There's an interesting mental picture," Tony murmured to Bruce.

"You're just jealous that you don't have any fangirls."

"I have lots of fans! I just like to keep them at arm's length. Is she—is she running her fingers through his **hair** now?"

"Looks like it."

Indeed, Loki was bending down slightly so that the girl could reach up and touch his hair. "I like it long, like this," she was saying. "It just . . . flows."

"Yes, well, thank you so much, but we have places to go. I believe the actor who does the voice of Barnicle Boy is in the next room." Tony put an arm around Loki's shoulders and started to lead him away.

"Wait! Where are you going?" The girl started to run after them.

Loki started to look over his shoulder, but Tony said, "Just keep walking. Don't look back at them. Let's just get out of here nice and—"

"LOKI!" The cry went up like a banshee howl as literally dozens of fangirls appeared out of nowhere and converged on the trio.

"Let's get out of here!"

They ran like the wind.

* * *

**Saturday, nine-thirty a.m.**

"How do you move in this thing?" Bruce was having a hard time just walking in the War Machine suit, non-functional or not. "It weighs a ton!"

"You should have seen the first one. Heavy, clunky, made out of spare parts . . . the one I'm working on now is streamlined and made from a light alloy."

"Not the one you're wearing?"

"No, but this one's close to it."

Bruce shrugged—or tried to; it was hard to lift his arms in the bulky suit. "Whatever. Which way to the panel room?"

"Down here. There's a paid photo op before—ten bucks for an autograph, twenty-five for a pose next to me, that kind of thing. Not my idea. They've got to make their money somehow. You just stand there and look menacing."

"Got it." For a moment, Bruce wished he had fans willing to pay money just to stand next to him for a moment. Most people didn't know who he was. Others were okay until they found out he was the Hulk, and then they treated him like a time bomb about to go off. He didn't know which was worse, really.

"Where do you think Loki's got to?" he asked, just before they reached the room where the photos would be taken.

"Don't know, don't care. As long as he doesn't cause trouble." Tony opened the door, and the fans in the room went wild.

Loki, meanwhile, was having the time of his life. He had engaged in a discussion about _Firefly _with a man selling television memorabilia, who had several hard-to-find items from the show's brief run. At a price, of course.

"You should have him sign these," he said.

"Have who sign them?"

"Captain Reynolds, of course! He's around here somewhere. He stopped by here yesterday and signed a few things, but they sold right away. If you happen to run into him, ask him to sign the book, at least."

"I would not wish to impose on him—"

"Oh, don't worry about that! He's always willing to greet his fans. If you do see him, tell him Graff says hi."

Loki nodded. "Thank you for the information."

"Love the helmet! Is that heavy?"

"No, not at all."

"Can I try it?"

Loki was unsure of how to answer this request. He hesitated so long that Graff said, "Hey, it's okay, man. Don't worry about it. Have a great day, now!"

"I am, thank you." As he walked away, Loki was glad he came to this place. How nice to meet people who shared his interests.

* * *

**Saturday, opening**

VIP tickets meant they were first in line in the morning. Tony smiled and waved at his adoring fans. Bruce sipped his complimentary cup of coffee and wished it wasn't quite so hot out. Loki, on the other hand, seemed quite interested in the people in line and all their colorful costumes.

One group who were dressed as the Avengers came over to him. "That looks so real," the girl dressed as Black Widow said.

"I made it myself," he admitted.

"Wow," said the ersatz Captain America. "How long'd it take you?"

"Months!" It was not exactly a lie. Though sewing was considered a "womanly" art on Asgard, Loki had learned to make his own clothes, and most of what he wore at home were his own creations.

"Awesome!" said the young man in the Iron Man suit, which looked astonishingly real. "Mine took a whole year to put together."

"Does it have working repulsors?"

The boy laughed. "I wish! I heard of a guy who did that, though. I think there's a how-to video on YouTube."

Loki nodded. "I shall check it out."

The doors opened, and they made their way inside the hall full of bright and colorful wonders.

"My panel is at ten," said Tony, "so we have a little time to look around if you want."

"I wonder if Nathan Fillion is here?" Loki mused. "I've heard he comes to Comic-Con every year."

"Well, we'll keep an eye out."

"Stan Lee is supposed to be here, too," said Bruce.

They passed vendor's booths with exclusive memorabilia for sale. At one, Loki spotted something interesting.

"Is that a Mermaid Man figure?" he asked, leaning closer but not daring to touch it.

"Yep," said the dealer. "It's a Limited Edition. Fifty bucks."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"They only made a thousand of them. Once they're gone here, they'll probably pop up on eBay for five times the price. I'd get it now, before the crowds come."

"It seems a lot of money for a piece of plastic."

"Forty-five. Take it or leave it."

"Take it," Bruce suggested. "A lot of people come here just for the exclusives. Most of them sold out the first day."

"Very well." He handed over a small stack of bills, and the vendor put the toy into a small plastic bag for him.

A little boy was staring up at Tony intently. "Are you the real Iron Man?"

"Why, yes. Yes, I am."

"Where's your suit?"

"I sent it out to be cleaned. It should be waiting for us back at the hotel. In fact, guys, why don't we head back there and see if it's ready?"

Now the boy was staring at Loki. "You're not the real Loki, are you?"

"Um, no," he said. "I'm not."

"Good." And with that, he turned away, cape flapping in the breeze.

"That was weird," said Tony. "C'mon, Beebs, you and I will go put our suits on."

"You're sure Colonel Rhodes doesn't mind me borrowing his suit?" Bruce asked.

"He said just don't get it damaged, or sell it to the highest bidder. Anyway, it's a non-functional replica, just for show. You don't need to do anything but walk around in it. Be my bodyguard when I show up for the panel."

"Could I stay here and look around some more?" Loki asked. "Maybe I'll meet someone famous."

"If you do, get pictures." Tony gave him a wink and a smile, and then he and Bruce headed for the main entrance, waving their badges at the security people.

"You think it's okay to leave him on his own?" Bruce asked.

Tony shrugged. "He'll be fine. What could go wrong?"

* * *

**Friday night**

The plane ride had been fun, but they were glad to finally be on the ground. The pilot helped them load their luggage into the waiting limo. As he was transferring it, he accidentally dropped Bruce's. There was a click as the lock disengaged, but he caught it before it opened all the way.

"Sorry about that," the man said.

Bruce waved him off. "Don't worry about it. That bag's been around the world five times already. I think after this trip, it's time for a new one."

"We could stop on our way to the hotel," Tony offered.

"No, it's okay. It'll hold together for one more weekend. I'll replace it when we get home."

Loki had never been to California before. It was much warmer than New York, but he thought he could handle it for short periods.

"You okay, Frosty?" Tony asked him. "Yeah, it's hot out here. But everything's air-conditioned, so you should be okay."

"I think I am building up a tolerance to this weather, actually."

"Well, good. Let's go get settled in at the hotel, and then we'll go have a look at the convention center. I bet there are lines outside already."

"I want to wear my armor tomorrow. Make a grand entrance."

"I don't know, buddy. Armor in this weather?" Bruce wasn't sure the Frost Giant could handle heavy clothing in this heat.

"Actually," said Tony, "that sounds like fun. I'll wear my suit, too. And I have one for you, Beebs!"

"I hadn't actually planned on dressing up—"

"Oh, you'll love it! Get into the Comic-Con spirit!"

On their way to the hotel, they drove by the convention center, where there were indeed lines of people camped out on the sidewalk.

"This is gonna be the best weekend of our lives, guys." Tony raised his fist in salute. "Long live Comic-Con!"


End file.
